Lost Carol
by Michelle Knight 1188
Summary: Sam finds himself repeatedly sucked into an alternate world of despair, horror, and death. He and his brother race to unlock the mystery of what is happening, but in the end will Sam be able to escape from this nightmarish world or will it conquer him?
1. Where Are We?

**I actually posted the first two chapters of this story over the last few days under the name Melancholy Requiem, but somehow I had an error with my account so I decided to delete and repost it (twice). (Sooooo sorry for those who have already read these chapters!!) Anyway, hopefully all will go smoothly from here. **

"Sure thing Bobby…yeah, we'll be careful, talk to you soon." Dean flipped his cell shut and shoved it back into his jeans pocket. He took in a deep breath of the crisp night air and then walked back into the bar to look for his brother. Dean spotted Sam sitting alone in a corner with a bottle of beer, looking like he was bored to death.

Sam looked up as he approached and raised his eyebrows. "So? What'd he say?"

"He said you need to loosen up, Sammy. Relax. Pick up a girl or two…or three…or five…"

"Knock it off Dean, I'm tired. We've been driving all day."

"Exactly. I for one am ready for a little action…did you see that blond chick behind the bar? I mean, did you _see_ her?" he grinned at his little brother and sat down opposite him at the table. "I'm gonna work my irresistible charm on her, she'll be mine in ten minutes tops…"

"Dean…" Sam said, and rolled his eyes.

"Oh, I'm sorry, did you want her Sam? Don't worry, I'll find out if she has a sister."

"You're unbelievable."

Dean's smile widened, and he leaned back and folded his arms across his chest. "I know."

Sam couldn't help the small smile that crossed his face. He took another sip of his beer and then looked at his brother again. "Dean…"

Dean sighed. "Fine, fine…you're a real kill-joy, you know that Sam?" he shook his head and continued, "Bobby said that there have been a few incidents in town here that we should check out since we're in the area."

"Incidents?"

"Yeah, incidents. A couple of rumored ghost sightings…pretty standard stuff. Should just require a simple salt and burn."

"Okay." Sam said. He watched Dean's eyes wander back to the blond girl, who had started dancing on the bar. "Dean, I'm gonna head back to the hotel." Dean didn't respond, and Sam sighed in exasperation. "Dean…Dean…_Dean!"_

"Wha—What? You say something Sammy?"

Sam smiled and stood up. "I'm beat, Dean. I'm gonna call it a night."

"Fine, go get your beauty sleep…your loss." Dean said dismissively, standing up and walking toward the bar.

"Not really." Sam muttered with a grin. He walked toward the exit, only stopping to take one more look at his brother who had struck up a conversation with the woman, and stepped outside. The air was chilly but comfortable, and he walked briskly across the parking lot toward his hotel across the highway, gravel crunching softly under his feet.

He made it to the room without a problem, unlocked the door, and laid down on one of the beds. After a few minutes he stood up and got his laptop out of his bag, intending to see if he could find out anything about the ghosts Bobby had been talking about.

Hours later, Sam was pretty sure that the ghost sightings were all just a hoax, and Dean wasn't back. He stood up, stretched, and walked into the bathroom, intending to take a shower. He turned the taps on and then stepped back.

Suddenly, a stabbing pain erupted in his head. He gasped and staggered back a few feet. "Whoa—"

It happened again, and it took everything he had not to fall to his knees. He had had enough visions to know exactly what they felt like—

—and this wasn't a vision. This was something else.

He realized that he had to call his brother and forced his eyes open. The room was spinning violently, and he felt as though he was going to be sick. Sam forced the bile back down and somehow made his way across the room to where he had left his phone sitting on the nightstand. He blindly pressed what he hoped was Dean's speed dial and put the phone up to his ear.

"Hey Sammy." Dean's voice said. At that second, another stabbing wave of pain exploded in Sam's head and he fell to his knees, unable to speak. Dean mistook his silence for moodiness and kept talking. "So it turned out that that blond chick wasn't that much fun after all…_she's married_. Shocker, huh? Anyway, I'm out with Carla now—she's hotter, single, and _much_ more interesting." Sam bit his lip, not trusting himself to say anything without screaming into the phone. His silence made Dean uneasy. "Sam, is something wrong…Sammy…say something, man."

Sam opened his mouth "De—"

"Sam, what's wrong?" Dean demanded, hearing the pain in his brother's voice.

"H-help." Sam chocked out. "H-hurts."

"I'm coming Sammy, okay? You're in the hotel, right? What hurts?" Dean's panicked voice demanded. Sam felt the phone slip through his fingers and land on the carpet. The pain was greater than anything he had ever experienced, it felt as though his head was going to explode. The world around him felt like it was spinning—round and round and round—

Sam slowly regained consciousness. His head still hurt, but the stabbing pain had lessened to a throbbing ache. He groaned, and used his arms to slowly ease himself up into a sitting position.

He opened his eyes and couldn't see anything. The room was completely dark—the lights must have somehow been shut off. For a moment he thought that Dean must have done that, but then he realized that if Dean had been there he would have at least gotten him off the floor and into a bed.

He remembered that he had fallen near the nightstand. "There was a lamp on the stand." He muttered, and reached his hands out all around him—all he felt was the wall. "Weird…ok, my cell will give off light…" he said, trying not to panic. He felt along the floor and let out a sigh of relief when he found the device. It was still open from when he had dropped it, and he pressed another key so that it would light up again.

The phone gave off a very dim, blue light. Sam held the phone up and turned, expecting to see the bed and nightstand. They weren't there.

"What the hell?" he muttered, standing up slowly. The light from his phone shone on the wall, revealing badly chipped and peeled paint. He took a step forward and something cracked under his feet. Glass shards. Sam looked around and saw that the floor was covered with odd pieces of debris, and the whole room smelled of mold and dust, like it hadn't been used for years. "How did I get here?" he whispered, confused. "This isn't the hotel."

He turned and walked into the room. A rusty bed frame was propped up against the side of one wall, but aside from that the room was empty. The windows had been boarded up with planks of wood, and a few rays of moonlight shone through the gaps. Sam walked forward toward the window and put his phone down on the ground. He grabbed one of the boards with both hands and pulled with all his strength.

After a few good tugs he managed to pry the plank away from the wall, letting in more moonlight. Sam dropped the wood and leaned forward to peer out of the gap and see where he was.

The area around the building was thick with fog; it covered the surrounding area like a blanket, hiding everything from view.

There was a sign in front of the building. Sam squinted, straining his eyes to read the faded words. "Comfort Hotel…" he read, and blinked in confusion. "That can't be right…that's the hotel we were staying in…"

Sam picked up his phone and dialed Dean's number. It rang twice and then crackling static blasted through the speaker. "Dean? Dean?...Damn it." He said angrily, ending the call.

He turned to leave the room, but stopped to take a knife out of his pocket. Unfortunately all of his guns were in his bag and in the trunk of the Impala, so that was the only weapon he had. Sam looked at the room closely, taking in the size, shape, where the door was, where the bathroom door was, and everything else. The layout was exactly the same as the room he had checked in to—it was the same room—_b__ut it wasn't_. "I have to find Dean." He said, and strode carefully toward the door. Right before he left, he heard a soft splash from the bathroom.

He froze in mid-step.

It happened again, louder this time. Sam slowly turned and looked toward the bathroom door. It was closed.

Knife ready, he walked over to the door and opened it—it creaked open eerily, revealing the pitch black bathroom. Sam held his phone up, but he couldn't see anything. He took a step forward and water splashed under his foot. The bathroom was flooded with a few inches of water.

"Is someone in here?" Sam asked quietly, his voice sounding unnaturally loud in the quiet place. "Anyone? I'm not going to hurt you." He stepped forward a few feet until he saw the bathtub. It was one of those multipurpose ones, with a shower overhead.

The tub was overflowing with water.

Sam stepped closer, trying to figure out what had made the splashing noise. He held his phone over the bathtub to see if he could see anything.

The water was black. Sam got an uneasy feeling that something wasn't right, and he peered closer into the water—

The bathroom door slammed shut behind him, startling him. He dropped his phone—right into the tub of water.

"Shit!" Sam gasped, his heart pounding in his chest. He was surrounded by darkness and couldn't see a thing. He remained perfectly still for a moment, silence thundering in his ears, knowing that he had to get his phone back or he wouldn't be able to see.

Sam reached his left hand into the tub—it struck the bottom. He breathed a sigh of relief and moved his hand to the right, feeling blindly for his phone.

Without warning, something latched onto his arm and yanked him down, submerging his whole upper body in the water. Sam gasped in surprise, breathing in a whole mouthful of water—water as cold as ice. He struggled to stand back up but what felt like dozens of hands grabbed onto his upper body, bruising him, digging their nails deep into his skin—keeping him trapped under the water. His feet kept slipping as he tried to stand up, there was no traction in the flooded bathroom—

His left hand was still clutching the knife, and he stabbed wildly at whatever was in the water—he was out of air, he couldn't breathe—

His knife hit something solid, but all the hands merely tightened their grips instead of letting go. He stabbed again, helplessly, his head was spinning, he was going to lose consciousness at any second—

Suddenly they all let go of him, and he felt himself float upwards toward the surface of the tub—

Something grabbed him around the waist and yanked him out of the water. He landed on the floor, gasping for air.

"Come _on_!" a voice yelled at him. "They'll be back! We have to get out of here!" two hands grabbed onto him and pulled him upwards, towards the door. His head still spinning, Sam willed his legs to move, and with the help of his rescuer he managed to stumble out of the bathroom, through the room, and out into the hallway, where he collapsed against the wall, breathing hard.

"What were you trying to do, get yourself killed?!" the voice demanded.

Sam opened his eyes and looked up. A young woman was standing above him, studying him with her hazel eyes as she kept her flashlight pointed at him. She looked like she was in her early twenties, and had straight blond hair that fell past her shoulders. She was wearing ripped jeans and a black t-shirt, and had an assortment of weapons strapped to her thighs and back. "W-who—are you?" he managed to say.

She stared back at him. "My name is Leandra Turner…" she said dismissively, "The real question is who the hell are _you_, and what are you doing here?"

Sam shrugged. "My name is Sam Winchester…and wherever _here_ is, I honestly don't know how I got here." He took in a deep breath and sat up straighter, looking at the door they had just come out of. "Shouldn't we move before those things come back?"

Rachel shook her head. "They can't get us out here…" when Sam looked at her in confusion she continued, "I call them Puddle Jumpers…they only live in water—swimming pools, streams, puddles, bathtubs...and any other watery environment—and they're deadly, obviously."

Sam stared at her. "How did you get them to let go of me?"

"I lit a match." She said, and shrugged when he looked at her with disbelief. "Don't look at me like that. So far, fire is the only thing I've found that scares them…I'm not sure why."

"That doesn't make any sense—"

"You don't think I _know_ that? None of this makes any sense!" she snapped, "And keep your voice down, something will hear you!"

Sam shook his head, and got shakily to his feet. "Where are we, Leandra?"

She shrugged. "I don't know for sure—"

"Well where do you _think_ we are, then?"

She laughed bitterly. "Honestly? I think we're in some nightmarish alternate reality. It's like Earth, but everything is _twisted_ and horribly different. There are no people anywhere, and instead there are all these monsters—" she cut off and looked straight at him.

He looked at her closely. "How long have you been here?"

"Too long." She said, taking out a knife and running her pointer finger up and down the blade. "About eight months ago I got this searing headache and passed out—when I woke up I was here."

Sam's eyes widened. "That's exactly what happened to me a little while ago!" he paused, "…you've been stuck here for eight months?"

Leandra shook her head. "It's more of a cycle…I get a headache and wind up here for some period of time—sometimes hours, sometimes days…it varies each time—and then I get another headache and wake up in the real world." She paused. "Eventually I ran away from home…I couldn't tell my family the truth of why I disappeared for extended periods of time—they'd think I was insane—so I just…left."

"Dean." Sam said suddenly.

"What?"

"My brother—Dean. He's probably worried sick by now."

"Yeah, well…there's nothing he can do."

Sam shook his head. "No, Dean'll figure something out. He'll get us out of this mess."

Leandra rolled her eyes. "I doubt it, but I'll take whatever hope I can get." Suddenly her eyes widened and looked down the dark hallway to the left.

"What is it?" Sam asked.

"Did you hear that?" she whispered. "Something's coming, we have to move." she handed him a pistol and together they walked down the hall, Leandra in the lead. As they walked, Sam couldn't help looking around. Everything was falling apart. Some rooms were missing doors, there was no carpet, the walls looked as though they could crumble at the slightest touch.

Leandra stopped suddenly, and Sam almost ran into her. "What?" he whispered.

"We have a problem." She murmured softly. "The stairs are on the other side of _that._"

Sam looked ahead and saw that the ceiling had fallen in ahead of them, blocking their way down the hall. There was an elevator shaft on the right wall. "I'm guessing that the elevator's not working, right?" he questioned.

"There's no power in the building, Sam. Of course it's not working."

Sam looked back down the hallway the way they had come. "Can we go back that way?"

"No…from the sound of it a lot of them are coming toward us."

"A lot of what?"

Leandra looked at him, "I tend to think of them as mutant wolves...they're not the most dangerous things here, but they're fast and hard to kill and they tend to travel in large groups and—you get the picture."

"Okay." Sam said quickly, thinking. He looked at the elevator again—there was a small gap between the doors. It was too small to squeeze through, but maybe… "Maybe we can pry this door open with something and escape that way."

"The elevator?" Leandra said, "I suppose—"

Sam walked forward to where the ceiling had caved in to block the passage. "There has to be something useful here…" he muttered. Leandra stayed back, her gun pointed at where the creatures were coming from.

Sam spotted a piece of a metal pipe in the wreckage, and carefully pulled it out. "This should work."

"What do you want, a cookie? Less talking, more hurrying." Leandra said bluntly. Sam could hear growling nearby.

He hurriedly used the pipe as a crowbar to open the doors. They moved open an inch.

"A little faster, please…" Leandra said, "Time is not our friend here."

"I'm going—as fast—as I can." Sam grunted, straining to get the door open. The doors moved another inch…and then a few more… "There. We should be able to squeeze through." He said, and secured the pipe in one of his belt loops in case he would need it later.

Leandra backed up holding the gun and shone her flashlight into the hole. "Sam…the elevator's not there."

"That's what I was hoping for, this way the wolves can't follow us." He said. "We'll have to hang from those cables—can you do that?"

"As opposed to being eaten—hell yes." She said quickly.

"Go." Sam said.

Leandra pointed the light into the shaft and looked around. There was a cable directly to her left that she could easily reach. She squeezed through the doors and reached for the cable. When she had it securely within her grasp she jumped away from the floor and into the shaft, hitting a wall. Somehow she managed to keep her grip on the cable, and braced her feet on a different part of the wall while her nails dug into the skin of her hands as she tried to keep a tight hold on the line. "Sam! I'm in, come on!" she hissed urgently.

Sam's head appeared in the shaft as he squeezed through. Leandra pointed her light at one of the other cables. "Go for that one." She suggested.

Sam nodded and reached out his hand—

His face contorted in pain. "Argh!" he looked back through the gap and saw that one of the wolves had sunk its sharp teeth into his ankle. He quickly pulled his gun out of his jeans and shot the thing twice point blank in the head. It let out a deep, full throated growl, but continued to hang on to him. "What—how—Leandra, it's not dead!"

"It'll take a lot more than two bullets to kill one of those things, Sam! I told you, they're like freakin' mutant wolves on steroids!"

"Fantastic!" Sam shouted. "So exactly _how _am I supposed to—"

"Keep shooting it, you idiot!" she yelled back. "Here!" she unstrapped a gun off of her back and threw it at him.

Sam somehow managed to catch the shotgun, and fired all of the bullets into the wolf's head before it finally whimpered and let go. Sam pulled his leg back through the hole right before another wolf could clamp its' teeth down on him, and then cried out as all of the wolves fought and scratched to get through the gap in the door. Suddenly he lost his footing and fell backwards.

"Sam!" Leandra screamed.

He managed to grab onto something sticking an inch or two out of the wall, and held on. He winced, knowing that he wouldn't be able to keep his grip for long, and look into the shaft. There was a cable near him, but it was slightly out of his reach. "I'm gonna have to jump for it." He announced.

"No!" Leandra said. "You'll fall!"

Sam felt his hand slipping. "I'm going to fall anyway!" he yelled back. He took a deep breath and then leapt for the cable. He managed to grab it, but it kept sliding through his hands as he fell down—

He heard Leandra screaming, felt the air streaming through his hair, and then—

He managed to get a firm grip on the rope and stopped falling with a jerk. "Aaagghhh!" he yelled painfully. "Ohhh God—!" his hands were smoking, and felt as though they were on fire.

"Sam!" Leandra yelled frantically, peering down at him. "Are you alright? Sam!"

"I'm fine!" he yelled back, and heard her sigh in relief somewhere above him. He looked upward and saw the light from her flashlight angled down toward him. Suddenly her expression changed from relief to horror. "Sam…"

"What?"

"The elevator is coming up…there's no power, but it's coming up!"

"What? How, that's—" Sam looked down and saw the elevator rising slowly towards them. "Oh, that's bad…"

"Okay…okay…we can get out of this…" Leandra said shakily. "I've been through worse…"

"Worse?!"

"Shut up, I'm thinking!" she yelled back. "Ummm…uh…I know! Aren't there always doors on top of the elevators? In case people need to get out quick or something? We can use it to get in and then we won't be crushed!"

"Sounds good to me." Sam said. He waited a few more seconds and then let go of the rope, landing with a thud on the top of the elevator. He looked around, and instantly saw the little hatch Leandra had been talking about. He leaned down to pry it open—

And heard something INSIDE the elevator. He froze as he heard heavy footsteps walk directly under him...

Sam dove to the side just as a monstrously long and wicked blade sliced through the ceiling of the elevator like it was butter, piercing the air where he had just been standing.

**Hey everyone! It's been several months since I've written anything for this site, but this idea popped into my head and I decided to give it a try. Sorry it was such a long chapter, I actually combined the first 2 chapters that I had originally posted. This will be a Supernatural story in a Silent Hill like environment. Please review and tell me what you think!**


	2. The Fall

_Sam dove to the side just as a monstrously long and wicked blade sliced through the ceiling of the elevator like it was butter, piercing the air where he had just been standing. _

"What the hell was that??!" Sam yelled, jumping to his feet while staring at the blade in shock.

Leandra screamed and almost dropped the flashlight she was holding.

"We need a new plan, Leandra! _Now_!" Sam shouted, watching as the blade was slowly pulled back into the elevator and out of sight.

"Uh…I…we…_I don't know, Sam_!" she yelled helplessly. "Maybe we can use the crowbar to pry open another door and escape out of the shaft—but that's not going to help you avoid getting stabbed!"

Sam heard the heavy footsteps stop directly under him again, and he dove off to the side again, the blade cleanly carving through the elevator behind him like it was tissue paper.

"Oh God…" Leandra choked. "You're gonna die…you're gonna…NO! I just freakin' met you, Sam Winchester! You're not allowed to die yet!" Determined, she opened her hands a little, and slid down the rope quickly, stopping herself a few feet above the elevator just as the blade was being slowly retracted back through the ceiling. "Hold onto a cable Sam," she demanded, and drew her gun with her left hand. She aimed and then shot a few bullets directly at the old and decaying cables that were somehow pulling the elevator up the shaft.

The brittle cables snapped, and the elevator dropped like a stone, landing with a muffled thud at the bottom of the drop, leaving Sam and Leandra hanging from frayed ends of the swaying cables. Breathing hard, and realizing that he wasn't going to die just yet, Sam looked gratefully at Leandra and smiled faintly. "Thanks for that."

Leandra just nodded, her eyes wide, trying to catch her breath from the adrenaline rush she had experienced. "Let's just get out of the shaft…"

"Sounds good…" Sam said. He looked upward to plan their escape—

—and a stabbing pain shot through his head. "Aghh—" he gasped, squeezing his eyes shut.

"Sam? Sam what—" she froze as she realized what was happening. "Oh shit…oh shit, not here…"

"Oh…this is…not…my day…" Sam choked out as he felt the world spinning around him. He felt Leandra grab a hold of his arm and forced his eyes open. "No!"

"Sam, I—"

"You can't…hold onto me…and the rope…if I pass out _you'll fall too_…let _go _Leandra!"

"But I—"

"I'll wake up…in the other world…I'll be fine…and I'll _find you_…"

"But what if you hit the ground first?! Sam—"

The pain grew more intense, and her voice was replaced by silence as he felt himself losing consciousness. He let go—and suddenly he was falling—

Down—

Down—

Down—

Sam's eyes opened wide and he sat up with a yell.

Gasping for breath, his eyes darted around frantically, taking in the lights, panel of lit buttons, new carpet, and four closed in walls. He could hear classical music playing softly in the background.

He was in the elevator—back in his world.

Sam let out a sigh of relief and leaned back gratefully against the solid wall of the elevator, running a sweaty, blood covered hand over his face. The elevator suddenly slowed its upward ascent and let out a cheery ding as it stopped on the fifth floor. As the doors opened Sam wearily opened his eyes.

A little girl was standing out in the hall wearing a bright pink sundress, a balloon clutched in her tiny hand. As soon as she saw him her eyes widened and her mouth dropped open in terror.

Sam winced. "Hey—hey, everything's fine, okay? Please—don't scream…"

The little girl opened her mouth and let out a high pitched scream. She let go of her balloon and ran as fast as she could down the hall, screaming all the way.

"Sorry…" Sam muttered, and quickly pressed the button for the third floor, where he and Dean had been staying. The doors closed and the elevator slowly descended two floors before coming to a halt. Sam slowly stood up, wincing as he put pressure on the ankle that the wolf had chewed on. When the door opened Sam peered cautiously into the hall, not wanting to frighten anyone else. It was empty, so he slowly limped toward his room, trying to imagine just how pissed and upset Dean was going to be when he saw him—

When he reached his room he discovered that his hands were too slick with blood to twist the doorknob. He tried wiping them off on his shirt but that only caused them to bleed more, so he covered his right hand with his shirt and used the cloth to get better grip on the knob until it opened.

Dean wasn't in the room—if he had been, Sam knew that he would have come running as soon as he had started fumbling with the doorknob. "Where are you, bro?" Sam whispered wearily. He reached into his pocket, intending to call his brother, before he remembered that he had lost his phone in the other world.

He looked around until his eyes fell on the room phone sitting on a stand next to the beds. He slowly made his way over to it and then sunk down onto his soft bed as he picked up the phone and dialed Dean's cell number.

Dean picked up on the third ring, "Who is this?" he demanded coldly.

"It's me, Dean." Sam said softly.

"Sammy?? Oh thank God..." Dean said, obviously relieved. "Where are you man?"

"I—I'm in the room...at the hotel."

"Okay. I'll be _right there_ Sam, you stay put, do you hear me?" Dean demanded.

"Yeah." Sam said tiredly. "See you in a few." He replaced the phone in its holder before Dean had a chance to say anything else, wincing as he saw the bloody handprint that he had gotten on the phone. He stood up, walked over to the bathroom, and flicked the light switch. The room was instantly lit up with a bright white light, allowing him to see that the floor was dry and the bathtub was sparkling clean. As he turned he got a glimpse of his reflection in the mirror—

At that second the door to the room was thrown open. "Sammy?" Dean said loudly, running into the room. Sam stepped out of the bathroom, and Dean's jaw dropped as he gaped at the appearance of his little brother. Sam's face was bruised, there were bloody gashes down his arms, and the palms of his hands were raw and dripping with blood. One leg of his jeans was shredded at the ankle, revealing more blood, and his shirt and hair were soaking wet. "What…the…_Hell_…" he gasped, shocked.

"I'm fine Dean." Sam said, helplessly.

"You're damn well not fine, Sam! What happened?" Dean yelled, "What did this to you?!" he ran over to his bag and pulled out some first-aid materials.

"Dean, how long has it been?" Sam asked.

"What?"

"How long has it been…since the first time I called you…when I asked for help?"

"It's been two freakin' _hours_, Sam! I've been looking everywhere for you, and every time I called your phone I got nothing but static!"

Sam sighed. "Yeah, about the phone…I kinda lost it."

"What?" Dean snapped. "Where did you lose it?"

Sam shrugged and pointed at the bathroom. "In there...it fell in the bathtub."

Dean's eyebrows shot up. "What the hell are you talking about?"

Sam sunk down wearily onto his bed. "Dean…we have to talk."

**An hour later….**

Dean Winchester sat in a chair next to his brother's bed, trying to digest all that Sam had told him. "So…all that really happened?"

"Yeah." Sam said. "And it could happen again at any time. Lucky me, huh?"

"Shit…" Dean muttered, shaking his head. "This is bad, Sam."

"I figured as much." Sam said.

"No, Sammy, I mean this is really bad. I—I don't even know where to start trying to figure this nightmare out."

Sam nodded, and then sat up.

"What do you think you're doing?" Dean questioned loudly.

Sam sighed in exasperation. "Dean…I don't know how much time I have before I get sucked into that…place…again, okay? I don't have time to just lie around, I need to find as much information as possible so that I can be better prepared."

Dean opened his mouth to argue, but then paused and shut it again. "I hate to admit it, but you're right, Sam, and I'm not going to argue with you about that—but we don't have any idea where to look for answers!"

"Yeah we do." Sam said simply. "Leandra."

"What about her?"

"We have to find her…in _this _world. She and I are somehow involved in this, so we need to stick together. Besides, she's been in that world off and on for eight months now—she's bound to know a lot more information about it than she had a chance to tell me."

"Sam, we don't even know if she survived! And even if she did, she's still stuck in that universe! Who knows when she's going to get out next!"

"We have to try, Dean!" Sam protested, looking at his brother. "Dean…_please_…she's the best chance we've got."

Dean sighed. "Damn it, Sam…why is it always you getting into these situations?"

**Please Review!**


	3. Be Prepared

**Thanks to all who read and/or reviewed! Enjoy!**

**The next morning**

Dean anxiously tapped his fingers on the table in the diner. He could hear his heart pounding in his chest as he waited and waited—for Sam to come back from the bathroom.

Dean couldn't take much more of this—it was all completely ridiculous. It was bad enough that his brother was a psychic and had visions all the time, bad enough that Gordon was always out to kill him, bad enough that a bunch of demons wanted him to lead their freakin' army. But _now _he had to worry that his brother might, at any moment, vanish into an alternate reality where _everything _was out to kill him. Dean was scared that if he took his eyes off of his brother for _one second_ he would vanish.

At long last Sam walked back into the room and sat down across from him. "Finally." Dean muttered.

Sam's eyebrows shot up. "Dean…I was only gone for like two minutes."

"I wasn't worried, if that's what you're implying…" Dean shot back, taking a sip of his steaming coffee. "I was just remarking on how long you took—what were you doing, reapplying your makeup?"

Sam smiled and shook his head. "Whatever." He picked up his fork and took a bite out of the scrambled eggs in front of him. "If we make good time we should arrive at Leandra's house by tonight." He said, looking up at his brother. "Luckily she doesn't live too far away…"

"I still don't get why we're paying her family a visit, Sammy. She told you that she ran away from home…she won't actually be there." Dean pointed out.

"I know…" Sam admitted. "But her family should be able to give us information—like how frequently she kept disappearing, how she acted right before she ran away…stuff like that. It's a start, anyway." He looked down at the backpack propped up next to him on the seat. Dean had insisted that he keep it with him at all times—so that he'd be fully equipped if _it_ happened again. It was packed with a few choice guns, some knives, first-aid supplies, a couple candy bars, a heavy duty flashlight and some extra batteries.

The boys paid for their breakfast and then got back in the Impala. As the car sped down the highway Sam felt himself drifting off to sleep. He had been up researching all night, and was exhausted from what he had been through. He must have fallen asleep, because when he woke up they were at a gas station and Dean was standing outside the car pumping gas. Sam sat up straight and yawned. The clock on the dashboard said that it was after three o'clock, which meant that he had been sleeping for almost six hours.

Dean opened the car door and looked at him. "Hey sleeping beauty, glad to see you're finally awake!" he said, grinning.

Sam ran a hand over his face. "I can't believe I actually fell asleep…"

"Yeah, I couldn't believe it either—not a single nightmare, from the look of it." Dean said, grinning. "I couldn't bring myself to wake you." He paused, looking suddenly unsure of what he was doing, and his eyes drifted over to the left.

Sam followed his gaze and then shook his head, amused, "Walk over to the building and pay for the gas, Dean."

Dean opened his mouth and then shut it again. "You could come—"

"Dean." Sam said firmly. "I'm fine, okay? It'll only take you a couple minutes to pay for the gas—I'll still be here when you get back."

"Right." Dean said quickly. "I know that." He hesitated for a few seconds and then turned and strode toward the building. Sam watched him go for a moment, and then leaned back in his seat and shut his eyes again.

A stabbing pain shot through his head without warning, causing him to cry out. His eyes shot open, and he clutched his head in his head in his hands in agony. "N-no…" he croaked. The pain kept jolting through him as he struggled to stay conscious—he couldn't think, couldn't see—

The pain stopped as suddenly as it had come, leaving Sam gasping for breath. His eyes shot open, terrified—

Darkness…it was night again. Sam swore and then hurriedly dug through the backpack that had luckily been hooked around his arm until he found the flashlight. He turned it on and looked around. He was still sitting in the Impala…the shell of the Impala. The seats were all torn and decayed, every window was shattered, and the entire car was covered with rust. "Not _again_…" Sam moaned angrily. He pointed the beam of light out the window and saw that the entire gas station looked like it had been abandoned for years and years. Rusted abandoned cars were sitting in weird angles all around him, all the windows of the building had been shattered, and tall grass was growing up through the spiderweb of cracks in the pavement. "Great…just great…" he said darkly.

He reached for the door handle, pushed on it—

—and the door fell off its hinges and clattered deafeningly to the ground. Sam cringed and gritted his teeth, hoping against hope that nothing had heard the noise. He quickly took a gun out of his pack, shoved it in his jeans, and slung the pack over his shoulder before stepping out of the car and onto the concrete.

He shined his flashlight all around, trying to decide which direction was the best way to go, but the thick fog was back and he couldn't see anything outside the perimeter of the gas station. Suddenly, Sam heard a slow, uneven sound of footsteps coming towards him—

He spun around and pointed the flashlight in the direction he had heard the noise, squinting hard to see through the fog. A figure began to emerge slowly, walking unsteadily as though it might fall at any moment. As it came closer Sam realized that it looked like a person.

"Hey!" Sam cried softly. "Hey, are you alright?"

The figure didn't answer, and just kept treading forward at the same uneven pace. After a few moments it came completely out of the fog—

Sam let out a strangled gasp and pointed his gun straight at it—it wasn't a person.

Aside from its general shape, the monster was anything but human. Its skin was grey and decaying; he could see every single vein and bone in its body. Its legs were broken and pointed inward at the knee, causing the monster to lunge forward unevenly instead of walking. Its skin stretched tightly over its head, which was a blank slate void of any facial features save for a large gaping mouth. The creature seemed to be struggling to move its arms—which were trapped in a crossed position _under its skin_.

Sam fired a bullet at the creature, hitting the center of its forehead—but it kept walking towards him as though nothing had happened. "You've got to be kidding me…" Sam whispered. Suddenly the monster made a sickeningly loud gasping noise and projected a spray of liquid from its mouth--hitting Sam in the center of his chest with a splatter. As soon as the liquid hit the material of his jacket it hissed and started smoking—

Acid.

"Shit!" Sam yelled, hurriedly pulling off his jacket and throwing the burning material away from him. As the monster took in another deep breath Sam spun around and ran in the opposite direction, his sneakers pounding against the pavement. He heard another stream of acid shoot through the air behind him, missing him by inches.

He kept running, surrounded by fog that was so thick that even with the flashlight he could barely see a few yards in each direction. After several long minutes Sam slowed to a walk, breathing hard. He turned and looked behind him, listening intently for the sound of footsteps.

Nothing.

He turned back around and continued walking forward. He had no idea where he was or where he was going, but at least when he was moving he had a sense of purpose.

Suddenly the high pitched sound of a woman's scream filled the air. Sam turned and stared towards his left, listening. It happened again, accompanied with gunfire, and Sam took off running toward the sound. After a few seconds he came upon a very old and run down shopping mall.

The screams had stopped, but Sam was still anxious to find whoever had needed help. He walked over to the first door he saw and pulled on the handle—it was unlocked, and he stepped into the mall.

He was in some kind of department store. Racks of clothes and shelves of untouched merchandise were set up all around him, and slowly he made his way down the aisle into the center of the store.

As Sam turned the corner he suddenly heard footsteps behind him. He spun around quickly and raised his gun—

"Sam, don't shoot!"

Sam sighed in relief and lowered his gun. "Leandra." He studied her, noticing that she was covered in blood and grime, a gun held loosely at her side.

Without warning, Leandra ran up to him and wrapped her arms around him tightly. "Oh thank God…" she whispered. "I thought you were dead."

"I'm fine." Sam assured her, and she pulled away slowly. "Were you screaming a few minutes ago?" he questioned.

Leandra sighed and nodded. "Yeah. This…this…_thing_ jumped out at me and pinned me against a wall—I managed to kill it though." She shook her head tiredly. "I didn't even hear it coming…I guess that's what happens when you don't sleep for days, you don't notice things..."

"How long have you been here?"

She shrugged, running a hand through her blond hair. "In freak world? About five hours...after you disappeared I managed to climb out of the shaft, but by the time I got back into the real world you had already left the hotel."

Sam nodded. "Yeah…my brother and I decided to go to your parents' house."

"I figured as much. That's where I was headed too—to intercept you there—but here I am instead, battling monsters." She rolled her eyes and looked down, not even trying to conceal the bitterness in her voice.

"Well, at least we're in the same place." Sam said. "It's always good to have backup."

"Yeah." Leandra said, a small grin creeping across her face. She turned and looked around, her eyes scanning the store. "So, backup buddy…where would _you_ put the juniors department?"

Sam blinked, "The what?"

Leandra's smile widened and she placed her hands firmly on her hips and raised an eyebrow at him playfully. "Sam, I have been wearing these clothes for about four days. They're shredded and covered in blood...mine and who knows _what_ else's, and even though I'm stuck fighting monsters I don't have to look like one."

"O-kay." Sam said, looking around hopelessly. "Uhh…"

"Nevermind. Just stay close." She said, and started walking away down an aisle. When they found the department, Sam watched her as she quickly picked out a few shirts and a couple pairs of jeans. She turned to look at him. "Okay, something here is bound to fit. Did you happen to see a dressing room?"

"Uh…no…"

"There it is." She said, walking over towards it.

"I'll—I'll just wait out here." Sam said nervously.

She laughed and shut the door behind her. "You're sweet, you know that?" she said through the door.

Sam blushed and didn't respond. A few minutes later she came out, wearing a clean pair of jeans and a purple t-shirt. "That's much better." She said, looking around cautiously. "So…did you hear anything while I was in there?"

"Nope."

"Good…so where to now?"

"Well—"

A blood curdling scream interrupted him.

**Pleeease Review and tell me what you think. :)**


	4. It's just a dream, right?

Sam and Leandra looked at each other for a second and then took off running in the direction that the scream had come from. The sound echoed through the area a second time as they bolted out into center section of the mall, looking around wildly. Metal grates were pulled down over most of the stores, blocking their entry. "Sam, where—"

"This way!" Sam said urgently, and ran into the closest open store—a toy store. Once inside Sam began looking down all the aisles to the left while Leandra went right.

"_Oh God_—Sam, over here!" Leandra yelled. Sam ran over and saw that she was crouched down over the body of a young woman. Blood was splattered all over the place, and the woman had deep bloody gashes all over her body—but she was alive.

As Sam knelt beside Leandra the woman looked at him in the eye. "G-get..me…o-ut of here…" she pleaded.

"You're going to be okay." Sam told her, digging around in his pack for some first-aid supplies. "We're going to help you."

"T-this…is some…kind of n-nightmare, right?" the woman said, and coughed heavily, blood spilling out over her lips. "It's j-just…a bad…dream?"

"Listen to me," Sam began, "You're going to be fine, it's not even that bad."

"It's j-just…a…dream." The woman repeated, staring straight ahead as though she hadn't heard him. "N-nightmare…just…a…n-nightmare…I'm gonna…wake up…s-soon."

Leandra's eyes glistened with tears. She gently brushed the woman's hair away from her face with one hand. "Yeah." She whispered soothingly. "This is just a dream." A tear fell from her eye. "You're going to wake up soon…it'll all be alright."

The woman smiled at her and sighed contentedly.

She drew one last shaky breath and then her head fell to the side lifelessly, eyes staring vacantly at nothing. Leandra gazed at her for a moment and then let out a sob and screwed her eyes shut.

Sam placed a hand on her shoulder. "Leandra…"

"We should have _saved_ her." Leandra choked out.

Sam shook his head. "There was nothing we could do here without taking her to a hospital." He assured her.

"Why was she even here?" Leandra moaned. "She shouldn't have been here…"

"We don't know why any of us are here." Sam said softly.

"I _know_, but—"

On the other side of the room, something heavy dropped to the floor. Sam's hand tightened on Leandra's shoulder, and the two kneeled there motionless, barely daring to breathe. "I'll go check it out," Sam breathed in her ear, standing up and walking away slowly.

Leandra quietly took her gun out and sat there, holding her breath. All of the sudden something huge slammed into the shelf to her right, knocking it over onto her. Leandra screamed as the shelf and everything on it landed directly on top of her, flattening her to the ground. Her gun flew out of her hand, coming to rest out of her reach underneath all of the toys.

"Leandra!" Sam shouted. He ran over to help her but an invisible force slammed into him from behind, causing him to fall forward painfully. He pushed himself into a sitting position, looking around wildly, but he couldn't see anything.

"Sam!" Leandra yelled frantically from under the shelf, "Sam get this thing _off of me_! I—I can't move! It hurts!"

"I'm coming!" he assured her, and moved to stand up. Right before he did, the floor in front of him made a strange sucking sound.

He froze and looked down. Less than a foot away from him, a pasty, oval shape was sticking out of the floor. Sam blinked, confused, and stared straight at it—

It opened its eyes, and Sam jumped to his feet. Huge, round eyes with blood-red pupils watched him for a moment, motionless from the floor.

Sam took a step back. "Leandra…"

"What? What is it?" she asked anxiously, unable to see anything from where she was trapped under the heavy shelf. "What's going on?"

All of a sudden the creature rose up from the floor, easily stretching to the height of the tall ceiling. It towered over Sam, long arms positioned to seize him at any second.

Before Sam could do anything it lunged at him. He yelled in shock as it grasped him around the neck and flung him across the room. He flew into a shelf and fell painfully to the floor.

"Sam, what was that??" Leandra shouted. "Sam!"

Sam heard more sucking noises all over the room and opened his eyes to see dozens more pairs of bloody eyes glaring at him hatefully from near the floor, waiting. Sam realized that he and Leandra were greatly outnumbered by the creatures, and without stopping to plan anything he ran over to where Leandra was trapped and tugged upward on the shelf to free her. "Leandra, we have to get out, _now_!" he said urgently, managing to pull the heavy unit up about a foot, but before she could crawl out another monster wrapped its hands around his throat, lifting him off the floor as it squeezed the life out of him. Sam choked as his air supply was cut off and desperately tried to pry the creatures bony hands from around his neck. His feet kicked uselessly beneath him—he couldn't breathe—his vision began to darken—

Sam reached into his pocket and fumbled around until he found a knife. He took it out, and with every ounce of strength he had left he stabbed the creature through the head.

The monster let out an enraged screech and disappeared back through the floor, dropping him, his knife still deeply embedded in the side of its forehead. Sam landed with a heavy thud on the tile floor gasping for breath, his vision spotted and blurry. All he wanted to do was lie there and breathe, but he could hear all of the monsters bellowing angrily all around him and he knew that he didn't have a second to relax. He managed to climb shakily to his feet and took hold of the shelf trapping Leandra for a second time, "Leandra…push up…while I pull…" he gasped and pulled, feeling as though he were going to pass out any second. Leandra pushed upward as hard as she could, and felt the shelf slowly rise up until there was a gap big enough for her to squeeze through. She crawled out holding her gun, and Sam gratefully let the shelf fall to the floor with a slam.

Leandra stared horrified at Sam's battered appearance for a moment, and then slowly moved her wide hazel eyes to look around the room. About ten of the creatures towered above them, motionless, their eyes clearly expressing an intention to kill. "Sam?" she whispered shakily.

Sam just stood there beside her concentrating on breathing, trying to force his vision to clear. He had lost his gun when he had been thrown across the room, and he knew that he didn't have time to get his other weapons out of his pack. "We have…to get out of here…" he gasped, still trying to force air through his lungs.

"How?" Leandra whimpered.

"I have no idea…how good are you with that gun?"

"Not good enough…"

Sam looked around. They were standing near the back wall of the store, and all the creatures were blocking their way back out into the center of the mall—but there was a small door at the back of the store several yards away…

"Back door…" he whispered. Leandra's eyes met his and she nodded, trusting him completely. "Run for it…in 3, 2, 1—_NOW_!"

Sam and Leandra bolted toward the back door. Sam made it first and threw it open, but before Leandra could enter one of the monsters grabbed her wrist. She spun around and shot it twice in the throat, blood splattering all over her face and upper body, and when it let go she jumped through the door—

Sam slammed it behind them, locked it, and spun around. His flashlight was still clipped onto his jeans, and he quickly took it in his hand and looked around the room. It looked as though it had once been where all the merchandise was kept, but now it was nothing but a bunch of dusty shelves. The monsters were pounding furiously on the other side of the door, and Sam knew it wouldn't hold for much longer. He and Leandra took off running, looking for another way out.

**Reviews help me write faster...**


	5. Trapped

_The monsters were pounding furiously on the other side of the door, __and Sam knew it wouldn't hold for much longer. He and Leandra __took off running, looking for another way out._

"Up there!" Leandra urged loudly, pointing. One of the ceiling tiles had fallen off, revealing a hole up above them. "We can get out through there."

Sam nodded. "Help me move one of those tables under the opening."

They both darted over to a table and dragged it over. Sam crawled up onto the table first, reached his hands up to grab onto the lip of the opening, and managed to heave himself up through the hole. He quickly shone his flashlight around, revealing that the space was empty. He turned back to the opening and helped Leandra climb up. The two of them crawled quickly but quietly through the narrow passage, trying to make as little noise as possible. Eventually the passage ended at a dead end. Sam carefully pried the last ceiling tile up and slid it away to make another opening. He shone his flashlight around again and saw that they were above a small, empty room. He and Leandra jumped down.

"Where are we?" Leandra whispered, looking around. "This can't be the mall—It looks like someone _lives_here…"

Sam stared at the room, looking at everything around him, and his breath caught in his throat. "No way…" he breathed, stunned. He couldn't believe what he was seeing.

Leandra caught his shocked gaze. "Sam?" she questioned, concerned. "What is it?"

"This can't be right." He said, deep in thought. He walked toward the door, swung it open, and walked away into the next room.

"Sam, wait!" Leandra called after him, running to catch up with him. She caught him in what looked to be like a kitchen. "Sam!"

Sam didn't even look at her, and instead darted out of the room and up a staircase—

Leandra found him sitting on a small bed, staring around himself as though he were lost. "I don't understand…" he whispered. "How can we be here?"

"Sam…what is it?" Leandra demanded.

He finally looked at her. "This is the house where I grew up."

Leandra blinked. "What?"

"This was my bed…and that was Dean's." he continued quietly, still looking around. "I haven't seen this place in…forever. Years and years, anyway…but it still looks exactly as it did all those years ago."

"That doesn't make any sense, Sam."

Sam walked over to his dresser and ran his hands over its surface. He opened the top drawer and smiled faintly. "And here are the clothes that I wore when I was a kid…I grew so fast that I don't think my pants were ever long enough…" he slid the drawer shut, paused for a moment, and then carefully opened the bottom drawer. The drawer was full of sweaters. Sam reached his hand under the clothes and then felt his hand close around a heavy object. He pulled it out.

"Do you know what this is?" he asked Leandra excitedly as he sat back down on the bed.

"…should I?"

"It's my old photo album…" he said, a smile on his face as he started flipping through the pages. "When I was little I collected every picture I could find of Mom, Dad, Dean and me. Most of these were taken before the fire—Mom's there, see, and Dad's smiling." His face darkened. "He never seemed to smile much when I was around." He shrugged and shut the book. "When we moved away…I left it here. It hurt to look at the happy people in the pictures."

"Why?" Leandra asked, sitting down beside him on the bed. "What happened?"

Sam sighed. "Long story short, my Mother was killed by demons, my Father spent his whole life seeking revenge, and Dean and I…well, we've just always been caught in the crossfire."

Leandra raised her eyebrows. "Demons?"

Sam shrugged, "After all you've seen in the past eight months, I don't think demons should surprise you."

She shook her head. "I'm not surprised Sam…" she said, "I just wish you could have had a happier childhood, that's all." She watched as Sam moved to put the album back in the drawer. "Maybe…maybe you should keep it this time." She said thoughtfully.

Sam stopped and looked up at her. "Why? Nothing in these photographs is real anymore." He said sadly. He stood there deep in thought for a moment, and then sighed and placed the album in his pack.

They sat there in silence for a few moments, and then Leandra looked at him, "Well, even though I'm not sure how we managed to appear in your childhood memory…at least we haven't been attacked for a little while."

Sam grinned. "Imagine that…nothing has jumped out at us for at least ten minutes—that's gotta be a record."

"It's nice." Leandra said softly, leaning up against his shoulder. "Maybe we can just stay here until we get to go back to reality…that'd be nice."

"Yeah." Sam said, thinking, "About that…you know my phone got destroyed during that water incident, but I want you to have Dean's cell number so that you can contact us when you get back so we don't get separated again."

Leandra grinned and handed Sam her phone so that he could input the number. "Sam…" she said teasingly, "Are you giving me your phone number? Does that make this a date?"

Sam laughed, "No, I'm giving you my brother's phone number…but dear God don't go hooking up with him. And if this were a date it would be a real disaster." He shut her phone and handed it back to her.

"Aww…you're only saying that because we've been attacked and almost killed by monsters in a freaky alternate reality…"

Sam nodded, "Yeah…I'd say that's a far stretch from dinner and a movie."

"True…but you score points for originality." She said, smiling at him. Sam smiled back at her, and their eyes met—

Something crashed loudly downstairs.

Both Sam and Leandra jumped at the sudden noise. "Talk about ruining the moment…" Leandra muttered as she stood up and pulled out her gun. "Let's check it out."

"Can't wait…" Sam said sarcastically. He turned and led the way down the staircase and into the kitchen, prepared for anything—

A woman was standing alone in the center of the kitchen, and she turned to look at them as soon as they entered the room.

Sam's mouth dropped open. "Mom?"

Mary stood there, tears rolling down her cheeks. "Oh _Sammy_…" she whispered, and let out a sob. "Sammy, sweetheart, I'm so sorry."

"Mom…" Sam choked out a second time. "Are you really here? W-what's going on?"

The woman raised her eyes to meet her son's. "I'm sorry….I never….I never wanted…" She stammered, and then broke off, unable to finish the sentence. Her eyes filled with tears, and she placed a hand on her stomach. "Look."

Sam's eyes narrowed in confusion as he stared at the image of his mother, trying to understand what was happening. Suddenly, Mary's stomach began to swell—it grew larger and larger, showing that she was pregnant.

"What's going on, Sam?" Leandra breathed beside him.

Sam ignored her, his gaze fixed firmly on his mother. "What is it, Mom? What are you trying to say?"

Mary shook her head, "It's my fault, Sammy…_everything_ is my fault. The hospital…the hospital…" she broke off and let out another sob. "The hospital is the key."

"Mom, what are you talking about? Please just tell me!" he demanded, stepping toward her.

She looked at him, her eyes full of pain. "I'm so sorry."

"Mom—" Sam began, but before he could finish Mary burst into flames. Leandra screamed and grabbed onto Sam in horror.

"NO!" Sam shrieked. He stepped forward to try to help his mother, but the flames shot to the ceiling, spread across the floor, all over the counters, so quickly that it was as though the place had been soaked in gasoline—

In seconds the whole house was in flames, trapping Sam and Leandra in a burning inferno. Smoke swirled around them as Sam spun around to face Leandra. She was staring around frantically, "There's no way out, Sam!" she shouted, coughing. "The fire's everywhere—we're trapped!"

Sam coughed as the smoke penetrated his lungs, the heat burning them from all sides. He pulled Leandra close to him and then crouched down on the floor. She buried her face in his shoulder, shaking. "So this is it, huh?" she whispered with false bravado, her arms wrapped tightly around him.

He tightened his grip on her, concentrating on each rise and fall of her chest, his face buried in her golden hair. "I've got you…" he whispered back, squeezing his eyes shut. "It'll be over soon…"

**Sorry it took so long to post this chapter. I'm going to keep the chapters coming, but I'm at school now so I won't update as often (Sorry!!) ****So that means you have to wait a few days to see if they survive or not…****ohhh**** the suspense! Review, please.**


	6. Shouldn't Have Died

"Do you think he's alright?"

"He looks terrible…"

"What happened?"

"No one knows…we found him like this."

"Here? What on earth was he doing, he looks like death warmed over!"

"We need to wake him, he's already alarming the other customers."

"Sir? Sir, can you hear me?"

"Someone call an ambulance."

"Sir? Are you alright?"

"What kind of stupid question is that, dumb ass? Of course he's not alright!"

Sam groaned as he finally began to hear the voices around him. His head felt like it was spinning, and his mind was completely blank. What was going on?

"He's finally coming around."

"Sir? Can you open your eyes for me?"

Sam's mind raced faster. Where was he? How did he get here?

He slowly opened his eyes and peered through half open lids. He was lying on the floor of a toy store, surrounded by several employees that were gaping at him with concern. "W-what's going on?" he muttered, and then let out a string of heavy coughs.

An older, balding man looked at him critically. "We were hoping that _you _could tell us that, actually."

Sam's brow furrowed as he desperately tried to remember. "I—I don't—"

"What's the last thing you remember?" a younger man asked kindly.

Sam's mind raced, trying to recall. "I was with my brother, Dean…we were getting gas—" he froze, and everything he had been through in the past several hours came racing back to him. The monsters—blood—fog—fire—_Leandra_—

"Leandra!" Sam gasped, struggling to sit up, "Where is she?!"

"Who?"

"Was anyone here with me? A young woman with blond hair?" he questioned frantically.

"Uh…no, you were all alone when we found you here."

"She was with me! And the fire—oh God, the fire! I need to find her!" he said loudly, climbing quickly to his feet. He swayed instantly and would have fallen if the older man hadn't reached out and steadied him.

"Now wait just a second, young man," he scolded, "You're in no shape to go running off."

"But I—"

"I called an ambulance, it'll be here any minute."

"I'm not going to the hospital!"

"Yes you are. You're not thinking straight, and you're injured. You need help—"

"You don't understand!" Sam shouted, shaking the man's arm off and stepping back away from them. "I have to find her!" without another word he turned and ran, adrenaline pumping through his system. He heard the employees cry out for him to stop, but he ignored them. His head was still spinning as he darted out into the middle section of the mall looking for an exit, bumping into everyone in his path.

Finally he spotted an exit and ran towards it as fast as he could. He pushed open the door, dashed outside, and—

WHAM

He slammed full speed into someone on the sidewalk, the force of the impact knocking him backwards. He landed hard on his back and cried out in pain as the crash jarred some of his recent injuries.

"_Sammy_?"

Sam looked up at the person he had run into, the person standing over him—

"Dean." He breathed, his head spinning. He had so much to tell his brother—so many words—but he could make his mind slow down enough to say anything.

Dean stared down at his brother in shock. He had stayed in the area, hoping that he would be able to find his brother when he came back, but he hadn't expected him to come sprinting out of the mall like he was running a marathon. He crouched beside his brother and put his hand on his shoulder. "Sam, you need to calm down."

Sam looked right through him, his eyes wild and unfocused.

Dean saw the look in his brother's eyes and it scared him. "Sam—Sammy, listen to me. It's okay. _It's o__kay_ You're back, I've got you. Just _breathe_."

Sam nodded slightly and shut his eyes, allowing his head to gently fall back and rest on the pavement he was lying on. Dean moved closer to his brother, keeping his hand firmly on his shoulder, watching as his breathing became more regular as he began calming down.

A couple of people walked over towards them as though they wanted to help, but Dean shot them a glare and they walked away quickly. He sat there patiently, waiting for Sam to speak.

"Dean…" Sam finally said, opening his eyes to look for his brother.

"Still here, Sammy." Dean said quickly, noticing his brother instantly relax. "Can you walk? I need to get you to the Impala, people are going to start asking questions we can't answer and I'm pretty sure that the ambulance I hear is meant for you."

Sam nodded, and allowed Dean to gently help him up. He swayed on his feet, and Dean hooked one arm around his waist and helped him to slowly walk to the car. Sam slid in to his leather seat, staring blankly into space.

"Sam…" Dean said softly. "I need you to tell me what happened."

Sam nodded and looked down at his sooty, blood stained hands, and a tear trickled down his cheek. "I think…I think Leandra's dead…" he began sadly, and then told his brother a detailed account of everything that had happened since they had been separated at the gas station.

When he finished, Dean sat there silently, horrified at the terrors his brother had witnessed. He opened his mouth to try to give him some words of comfort but couldn't think of anything. "You don't know that she's dead, Sammy…" he said softly, the words sounding empty even as he said them.

Sam shook his head, tears in his eyes. "Yes she is. If she had made it out she would have called us by now, I gave her your number…she would have called."

Dean looked away. "I'm so sorry Sam."

Sam nodded. "Yeah…me too."

They sat in silence for a few long minutes before Dean spoke again. "You need to rest, Sam…there's a motel down the road—"

"No." Sam said firmly.

"Sammy—"

"Dean, I get it, okay? You're worried about me. I know—hell, I'm worried too. But you know what? I don't have _time_ to worry, Dean! I don't have time to rest, I don't have time to relax…I just _don't have time_." He said angrily. "At any second I could be sucked back there, and this time it'll be _me_ not coming back."

Dean's head snapped up and he stared at his brother. "Don't say that."

Sam shrugged. "Why not? It's true. Leandra's dead…why not me, huh? How did I manage to get out when she couldn't?"

Dean ran a hand over his face. "I don't know." He admitted.

Sam glared angrily out the window. "I feel like I left her there—like I abandoned her."

Dean shook his head, "You didn't, Sam. You already said you can't control when you get out. She knew that."

Sam leaned against the window and shut his eyes. "She shouldn't have died."

Dean sighed deeply, reached over and gave his brother's shoulder a squeeze. "We'll figure this out, Sammy." He said. "I already called Bobby and a couple other hunters he trusts, and they've been researching this other world situation for a while now, they're bound to find something soon."

Sam slowly opened his eyes and sat up in his seat. "No need…I already know where to look next."

Dean's brow furrowed in confusion. "What do you mean?"

"Mom told me that the hospital was the key, remember?"

Dean nodded. "Yeah, but Sam, even if that really _was _Mom and not some kind of demonic apparition sent to kill you, there are hospitals everywhere. It's not as if she specifically told you which one she meant."

"Yeah she did." Sam said, looking at his brother. "She kept saying she was sorry—and she was pregnant, remember? She _wanted_ me to see that she was pregnant."

"So what?" Dean asked, "What does that have to do with anything?"

"Dean…do you remember which hospital I was born in?"

"Yeah…same place as I was." Dean replied, catching on.

Sam nodded and then looked back out the window. "Start driving, we may not have much time."

**Well, it seems the guys are back together...for now, anyway! Review and tell me what you think so far. **


	7. Echoing Silence

**So ****sorry for how long it took me to post this chapter, but I've been ridiculously busy lately. Enjoy!**

_Everything was dark. Black as night—cold as ice._

_Sam Winchester stood in the middle of a room._

_Alone._

_All alone._

_A pistol held in one hand._

_"This is how it's supposed to be." A voice whispered in his ear. "How it should have been."_

_Sam nodded, tears streaming from his eyes._

_"Do it." _

_Eyes shut, Sam raised the pistol to his temple—his finger tightened on the trigger—_

_"Sam! NO!" _

_Sam's eyes shot open, startled—she was running toward him, arms outstretched—A flash of gold—_

Sam bolted up in his seat and opened his eyes, gasping for air.

Dean slammed his foot down on the brake and the Impala screeched to a stop. "Sam? Sammy?"

Sam took a deep breath and ran a hand down his face before he glanced over at his brother. Dean was staring at him intently, frightened, and Sam gave him a small smile. "I'm okay." He said, his shaky voice far from reassuring.

"Are you sure?" Dean demanded worriedly. "How's your head?"

"Dean, it…it was just a nightmare, that's all. I'm not going to disappear."

Dean shook his head, his hands tightly gripping the steering wheel. "Oh no, I'm not falling for that again. You said that last time…and when I got back to the car you were gone, remember?"

Sam winced guiltily. "Yeah…sorry about that."

"Sorry? You're _sorry_? Sam, you were just gone and there was _nothing_ that I could do to find you! Do you have _any_ idea how—" Dean looked away and let out a frustrated sigh. He pushed back down on the gas pedal, allowing the car to creep forward, and when he spoke again his voice was back to its usual laidback tone, "I'm still going to kick your ass for that later…after this is over."

Sam nodded, a slight smile on his lips, "I know." He looked out the window to see the hospital looming ahead of them. "We're here…" He said, surprised.

"Yeah…I was just about to wake you." Dean said simply as he pulled into a parking space.

Sam opened his door and stepped out of the car. Every part of his body protested the movement, and he winced and clung to the door of the car for support.

Dean noticed his brother's obvious distress. "Sam?"

Sam forced what he hoped was a laidback expression on his face and slammed the door shut. "I'm fine." He said firmly.

Dean shook his head. "Like hell you are…" he walked over to his brother, noticing the way he had paled significantly and was swaying on his feet. "Sam…"

"Not now, Dean." Sam said, avoiding his brother's concerned gaze. "Let's just go in and get what we came for." He turned and began walking slowly towards the entrance to the hospital. A few seconds later he felt Dean gently grab onto his upper arm, offering him some support. "Thanks." He mumbled.

Dean nodded. "So…what exactly _did_ we come here for, Sam?" he asked, changing the subject.

Sam shrugged. "I don't really know for sure…it just…feels right."

Dean looked sideways at him and raised an eyebrow. "It _feels_ _right_? What feels right?"

"I—I don't know, being here, I guess…at this hospital…" Sam said, frustrated. "Look, I'm just as confused as you are about this whole situation, Dean. I don't know why we need to be here, but it's where we're supposed to be, okay?"

Dean frowned but kept walking toward the entrance, helping to support his brother.

Sam sighed angrily. "Why do people keep staring at me?"

"Probably because you look like shit." Dean said, cringing when the statement came out harsher than he had meant it to. He had made Sam wash the blood and soot off of himself at the diner they had stopped at for lunch, but he still resembled the walking dead.

"I'm fine." Sam lied for what seemed like the hundredth time, wishing his brother would just leave him alone.

"You look like you're going to pass out at any second, Sam." Dean continued, "You're not fine." He opened the door and he and Sam stepped into the hospital.

Sam looked around. It was just like every other hospital he had ever been in: white walls, bright lights. Cheerful pictures hanging on the walls while tearful families sat on ugly plastic chairs waiting to hear news of their loved ones. Sam cringed. "I hate hospitals."

"Let's get this over with." Dean said, his eyes fixed on the woman at the front desk. "We need Mom's records, right?"

"Yeah, I think so."

"Okay, here's what's going to happen. I'm going to charm that woman at the desk into giving us the files we need."

"And what do you want me to do?" Sam asked.

"Well, you're obviously going to stand here and look cute."

"Dean—"

"Sam, you look like hell. The second that nurse sees you she's going to scream for someone to bring in a gurney and take you off to the emergency room to get a blood transfusion, stitches, and who knows what else. Hell, if it wasn't for the fact that you could disappear at any second I would be severely tempted to check you in to this hospital myself before you bleed to death or pass out again!" Dean snapped.

Sam looked at Dean apologetically. "Do I really look that bad?"

Dean ran a hand over his face. "Just sit down and relax for a minute while I talk to the nurse, okay?"

Deciding that it was best to not to argue, Sam warily sunk down into the nearest plastic chair without a word.

Dean nodded. "Thanks Sam, I'll be back in a minute or so…try not to bleed on anything." He started to walk away but then paused and looked back, "Oh, and Sam, if you get even the slightest headache, anything at all, you better damn well tell me this time."

The nurse behind the desk was bent over a stack of paperwork, her face half hidden by her chestnut colored hair. Dean strolled casually up to her and leaned down on the desk. "Excuse me, miss…" Dean said politely.

"I'll be right with you." The woman said without looking up, continuing to scribble away. "I just need to finish this last chart…"

Dean rolled his eyes and gritted his teeth together in frustration. "I really hate to rush you—but I'm in a hurry…" He said, the forced pleasantness of voice almost covering up his annoyance.

The woman sighed loudly and put her pen down. She glanced up at Dean and gave him a genuine smile. "Sorry for the delay, Sir. What do you need?"

"My name is Dean Winchester, and I need to see all hospital records for Mary Winchester…my mother."

"Okay." The woman said, making a brief note on a notepad. She gestured to the waiting area, "Go have a seat, we'll call you up when we're ready."

"Right." Dean said, giving her one of his best smiles. "So…how long is this going to take?"

The woman shrugged and went back to her paperwork. "It'll be awhile…as you can see we're quite busy today. Have a seat."

Dean didn't move an inch. "Look…please, I need to see the records now. It's very important."

The woman sighed and continued writing. "Look, I'm sorry, but you have to wait in line just like—" She looked up and froze.

Dean blinked, staring at her. The woman continued to gaze straight ahead, eyes fixed on nothing. "Miss?" he said softly. "Hey, what—are you okay?" He waved a hand in front of her face—nothing. He turned around to see what she was looking at.

"Shit." He whispered, gazing around himself in shock. Everyone in the room had frozen in place—silent—motionless—nothing moved.

Dean turned back towards the nurse and jumped—she was glaring at him, piercing green eyes inches from his, her mouth twisted into a scowl.

"I don't want you here." She hissed.

"You—what?" Dean said, bewildered.

"I don't want you here. I—want—Sam." She said menacingly.

Dean's hands clenched into fists at the mention of his brother's name. "What the hell—who are you?!"

"Where is he?"

Dean pulled his gun out and pointed the barrel inches from her forehead. "Stay away from him—whoever the hell you are—_you stay away!_ Do you hear me?!"

"He's here, isn't he?" she said, her scowl twisting into a taunting smile. "You actually brought him here—"

"Leave him the hell alone!" Dean yelled, his finger tightening on the trigger, eyes wide with fury. "I'm only going to ask you one—more—time—_who are you?_"

She cocked her head to one side, smile widening as she ignored his threats. "Awww…did big brother Dean make a big mistake? Looks like Sammy's all mine now…"

Dean fired.

The bullet exploded from the barrel of his gun—and then hung suspended in the air between them. Dean stared at it, stunned, and then turned his gaze to the woman. "What are you?"

"You should go." The woman murmured absently, gently touching the bullet with her finger. She looked up at him coldly, her eyes burning into his.

Dean shook his head, glancing over to where his brother sat frozen on his chair just like everyone else, unaware that anything was happening. "No."

"Leave the hospital, Dean."

"Why do you want him here?"

"I don't have time for this." She said. "I'm _ordering you_ to leave!"

"And I'm telling you," Dean yelled, "that I'm not going anywhere—_anywhere_—without Sam! Got that?!"

"Fine." She said. "You can stay in the hospital."

Dean's eyes narrowed. "What—"

Without warning, the bullet shot backwards—_towards_ Dean—and imbedded itself deep within his chest. His lips parted slightly in disbelief, and a shaky breath escaped from his mouth as he realized what had happened. He slowly moved a hand to his chest and pulled it away—blood.

"Have a nice day, _Sir_." the woman said mockingly. Dean looked up at her, towards where he knew she was standing behind the desk, but his swimming vision wouldn't focus on her. He stumbled and fell to his knees as his legs gave out beneath him.

Someone screamed, and the bustle of the hospital resumed in an instant, the sounds dull—strangely muted—in his ears. Spots of light danced across his vision as he felt a pair of hands gently take hold of his shoulders and lower him down the rest of the way to the floor. He gazed up at the ceiling, trying to focus on the shapes and shadows above him, but he couldn't concentrate—he couldn't think. The ring of urgent voices faded to silence, replaced by the loud, steady pounding of his heart in his chest.

It stopped.

**What****??! Plot twist! I have so much fun writing these stories. Leave me a review, they really do encourage me to make time and write faster. Thanks!**


	8. She Didn't Tell

**THEN**

_Without warning, the bullet shot backwards—towards Dean—and imbedded itself deep within his chest. His lips parted slightly in disbelief, and a shaky breath escaped from his mouth as he realized what had happened. He slowly moved a hand to his chest and pulled it away—blood. _

_"Have a nice day, Sir." the woman said mockingly. Dean looked up at her, towards where he knew she was standing behind the desk, but his swimming vision wouldn't focus on her. He stumbled and fell to his knees as his legs gave out beneath him. _

_Someone screamed, and the bustle of the hospital resumed in an instant, the sounds dull—strangely muted—in his ears. Spots of light danced across his vision as he felt a pair of hands gently take hold of his shoulders and lower him down the rest of the way to the floor. He gazed up at the ceiling, trying to focus on the shapes and shadows above him, but he couldn't concentrate—he couldn't think. The ring of urgent voices faded to silence, replaced by the loud, steady beating of his heart in his chest. _

_It stopped._

**NOW**

He stood outside of the hospital, barely standing, glossy eyes fixed straight ahead, staring. Thunder echoed through the air as a cascade of rain pelted down on him, blurring his vision until he could barely see.

He didn't _want_ to see—didn't _want_ to think.

He didn't know what to do.

It couldn't be real, it was all just a mistake. There was no way that this was actually happening.

The keys were in his hands—_in his hands—_

But he couldn't do it.

He couldn't bring himself to take another step forward. He couldn't.

So he stood there, oblivious to the rain, oblivious to everything.

And stared.

Because he couldn't get into _that_ car.

Not now.

After what seemed like hours, Sam slowly opened his hand,

Felt the jagged edges as they slipped through his fingers,

Heard the soft jingle as they landed at his feet.

"Sorry." He whispered, his voice rugged and dull.

He turned. Walked away.

Away from the hospital, away from the Impala…away from Dean.

Because Dean was dead.

How could that be? Dean had always been there for him, watching him, keeping him safe.

Always.

And the cause of death? A gunshot wound to the chest? Bullshit. There hadn't been a gunshot. He hadn't _heard_ a gunshot. After all these years of hunting, surely he'd at least be able to hear a gunshot in a small room.

No.

The bullet was there, but something else happened in that hospital. Something demonic. And he had missed it—he had failed—and now Dean was dead. It had all happened so fast…

_All your fault all your fault all your fault all your fault—_

Sam broke into a run, trying to escape the accusations whirring through his head. It _was_ his fault. _Dean crying out and falling to his knees—_It had been his fault that they had been at the hospital—_blood __seeping __everywhere__, a crimson pool spreading outward from__—_his fault that demons were after them—_blank green eyes, gazing right through__, doctors sorrowful apologies__—_his fault_—__Dean—_

His feet slipped on some loose gravel and fell with an anguished cry, sliding a few feet before coming to a halt on his hands and knees. Breathing hard, he laid there for a moment, the little stones cutting into his skin, trickles of blood mingling with the mud under him.

And the rain continued to fall.

He turned his head and looked back at the hospital. It loomed above him under the stormy clouds, menacing, mocking—because he was running away. Dean was dead, and he had lost.

"_No_." Sam whispered. He quickly pushed himself up to his knees and then stood, glaring up at the hospital, tears and rain rushing down his cheeks. "No…no, NO!" he yelled, his voice gaining strength with every word. "WHAT DO YOU WANT FROM ME" he shrieked angrily, his voice shaking. "WHO ARE YOU?? WHAT THE HELL DO YOU WANT?!" His voice echoed through the parking lot, unheard. No answer.

Sam waited a couple seconds and then took off running _towards _the hospital, his heart pounding in his chest. He was done running away, done avoiding danger. He was done hiding.

Dean was dead—his _brother_ was _dead_. There was nothing left for him to lose.

Halfway to the hospital a sharp pain ripped through his head exactly like before. He cried out but kept running, staggering along. Pain struck again, twisting and burning inside of him, but he didn't stop, he didn't fall. Eyes open and streaming from the pain, Sam reached the main door and stumbled inside, expecting to see the doctors, nurses, patients—

No one was there.

His head continued pounding as the silence engulfed him, and he fell to his knees in pain, clinging to the wall for support. He kept his eyes open this time, desperate to see what really happened each time he blacked out, and he watched through squinted eyes the room flickered and decayed in front of him; paint flaked off the walls, shards of glass fell from the window frames, tile floor splintered and cracked in different directions. The lights flickered wildly and died.

As soon as the lights failed, Sam's headache instantly faded to a dull throbbing, but this time he wasn't relieved. He knew better than that, he knew not to hope. He was back in the other world, on the other side—alone again.

Sam reached for where he usually kept his flashlight—it was gone. "Shit," he whispered, realizing that he had probably lost it when he had fallen outside. He spun around and blindly reached his arms out toward the door. When he felt the cool metal he pushed as hard as he could—it didn't budge.

He pushed again, harder, but the door remained tightly shut—he was trapped.

Sam stopped trying to push and leaned heavily against the door, his eyes open and peering into the darkness. The seconds ticked by, and as his eyes adjusted to the blackness around him he saw it.

There was a _light_.

It was faint, but Sam could see a light down the hall.

Without stopping to think, Sam walked forward down the corridor, heart pounding in his chest. Halfway down the left side of the corridor he found the source—a strip of yellow light peeked out from underneath a door, beckoning him to enter the room. Sam paused to take out his gun, and then reached out for the doorknob. It twisted easily under his touch, and the door creaked open slowly while Sam held his gun ready—

The room was lined with filing cabinets, all squeezed together in neat rows.

Sam let out the breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding and lowered his gun a little in relief. He cautiously stepped across the threshold into the small room, looking around. There had to be something there. There had to be some reason that he—

Sam froze as it hit him. "Records." He whispered, staring around him. "We came here for Mom's records." He quickly glanced down at the filing cabinet nearest to him. It was marked A-C. Turning around, Sam read the labels on other cabinets—"F to H…..K to M…..S to U……_where is it??_" he growled, frustrated. "Where…" his eyes fell on a cabinet, and he froze— "That's it." He whispered, pausing for only a moment before he strode over to it and pulled on the handle.

Locked.

"Damn it!" Sam swore, giving the drawer handle a couple forceful tugs before letting go angrily. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a lock-pick—

CREEEAK

Sam's blood ran cold and he froze at the sudden sound, listening.

thud……thud……thud……thud……

Something was walking in the hall. Sam stepped quietly over to the door and softly shut and locked it.

thud……thud……THUD……THUD……

The footsteps were getting louder. Sam spun around and walked back over to the cabinet as quickly as he could, trying to ignore the sound of approaching danger as he concentrated on picking the lock.

THUD……THUD……THUD……THUD……

Sam bit his lip in frustration as he worked at the lock—why wouldn't it open??—

THUD……THUD……THUD……

There was a soft click as it finally unlocked, and Sam quickly pulled open the drawer to reveal a row of neat manila folders. He hurriedly thumbed through them, looking—"Weir…Welden…Welsh…damn it, where—"

THUD……THUD……

Sam froze as he saw what he was looking for, "Winchester, Mary." He breathed. "Mom." He paused for a moment before snatching up the folder and opening it on the ground. A picture of his mother stared up at him, her eyes bright with laughter. He quickly moved the photo to look at what was underneath. The first few pages were charts full of data that he didn't understand.

THUD……THUD……

Sam moved them aside. The second sheet was a birth certificate—Dean's birth certificate. Sam's breath caught in his throat at this sudden reminder of his brother, and he looked away as the memories flooded back to him—

THUD……THUD……

The loud sound of footsteps jolted him back to the present and he hurriedly moved the sheet aside to find another birth certificate, this time with his name on it. Without giving it a second thought, Sam moved it out of the way as well. The next record showed that she had gone to the hospital because of a sprained ankle, the next showed that she had had some blood work done, the next that she had gotten a serious case of the flu.

THUD……

Frustrated, Sam looked deeper into the pile. There was nothing there—nothing was significant at all, nothing was out of the ordinary. He turned over another chart near the bottom of the pile and a small scrap of paper fell onto his lap. Sam picked it up discovered that it was a brief note. It was written in sloppy handwriting, and was so messy that he had trouble reading it,

_Nov. 1, 1983—Mary came in for another test today, and this time with positive results. Now two weeks along. __Will come in again later this month for a follow-up._

Sam crinkled his brow in confusion. "That was the day before she died." He turned it over, hoping to see something more, but that was it. "Two weeks along?" he repeated, confused.

He looked back to the folder and saw the last piece of paper—her obituary. Something was scribbled in the margin: _She never told. __Remains confidential._

"What remains confidential?" Sam muttered exasperatedly. "What didn't she tell?"

He sat back against the wall, thinking hard. He began going back through all the records, trying to find something that he had missed. "Come on, come on….there's got to be something here…." Suddenly his birth certificate got dislocated from the stack of papers and slid a foot across the floor.

Sam stared at it absentmindedly, and all of the sudden he realized what had happened. "Oh God…" he gasped, his mouth dropping open in horror. "No…oh no…oh God…"

_…positive…two weeks along…never told…confidential…_

Sam stood up, in shock, and ran a shaking hand over his face. Bile rose up in his throat, and he swallowed hard to try to force it back down.

Mary had been pregnant when she died.

Sam doubled over, emptying the contents of his stomach onto the tile floor. When nothing more would come but dry heaves, he wiped a hand over his mouth and straightened up, breathing heavily, clinging to the wall for support. He felt tears pouring from his eyes, and he blinked hard to clear his vision as a sob broke from him. This was too much—too much for him to take. Not now, not after Dean had just died. He had lost everyone—everyone he had ever cared about, and now this—

Suddenly, he heard a soft noise. His head snapped up, and he saw that the doorknob was twisting. Someone was trying to open the door. For a moment he panicked, but then he remembered that he had locked it earlier. Whoever was out there realized that too, and began angrily twisting and pulling at the doorknob. Sam backed up against the wall opposite the door, his gun held loosely in his right hand at his side.

As suddenly as it had begun, the sound ceased, and everything was quiet for a moment. To Sam this was worse than hearing the noise, and he listened hard to hear what was happening out in the hallway.

Then, he heard a familiar voice in the hall. A voice he hadn't expected to hear again.

"...Sammy?"

Sam squeezed his eyes shut, and a sob broke through him again. He knew that voice. He would recognize that voice anywhere—but he knew it wasn't real. That person was dead—that person was dead and this world was toying with his mind. "Go away…whoever you are, just go away…" he muttered brokenly.

"Sammy? What's wrong?" the voice continued, and the doorknob twisted frantically again. "Why did you lock the door?"

Sam's sobs intensified, and soon he was sobbing so hard that his sobs didn't even make a sound as he slid down the wall and sank to the floor.

"Why won't you let me in?" the voice demanded. "Let me in, Sam."

Sam shook his head, cradling his head in his hands, trying to block out the voice.

"Open the damn door, Sam!" it continued, angry now, "Why the hell won't you open the damn door? I'm your brother! I know you can hear me!"

Sam kept his eyes screwed shut, biting his lip so hard that the salty metallic taste of blood filled his mouth.

"You let me die!" the voice screamed. "You let me die! It's all your fault that I'm dead! It's always your fault, Sam! It's your fault that Mom's dead, your fault that Dad's dead, everything's your damn fault!"

"…no…no…no…no…no…" Sam whimpered, rocking back and forth on the floor, arms clutched tightly across his chest.

"You know what, Sammy? I wish you had never been born! I wish that I had never known you, I wish that I didn't have to protect your pathetic ass every damn day of my life! I hate you! I've always hated you! You're worthless, do you hear me?! Worthless! I hate you, Sam!"

"Stop it!" Sam screamed, unable to take it anymore. "Stop it, please, please stop, _please…_oh God just _stop_! Just stop…" he begged, an uncontrollable torrent of tears pouring continually down his face and landing in little splashes on the floor. "_Please_…" he clutched his arms closer to him and braced himself for what would come next.

Silence—it never came.

Sam waited a few seconds and then took in a deep, gasping breath. "Dean…" he sobbed, the fact that his brother really was dead hitting him full force. "Oh God, Dean, I'm so sorry…"

"Oh look who it is..." someone taunted from _inside_ the room, "Little Sam Winchester."

**And that seems like a good place to end this chapter...you'll have to wait until next time to see what's been going on and if Dean's really dead--don't hate me! ** **PLEASE REVIEW!**


	9. Twisted Reality

**Here's the next chapter, thanks so much to all who have reviewed!**

"_Stop it!" Sam screamed, unable to take it anymore. "Stop it, please, please stop, please…oh God just stop! Just stop…" he begged, an uncontrollable torrent of tears pouring continually down his face and landing in little splashes on the floor. "Please…" he clutched his arms closer to him and braced himself for what would come next._

_Silence—it never came. _

_Sam waited a few seconds and then took in a deep, gasping breath. "Dean…" he sobbed, the fact that his brother really was dead hitting him full force. "Oh God, Dean, I'm so sorry…"_

_"He's dead." A voice said right next to him, "He can't hear you."_

Sam's eyes snapped open and he looked wildly around for the person who had spoken. Within the next five seconds he realized two things: one, he was all alone, and two, he wasn't in the hospital anymore. 

Sam quickly jumped to his feet, staring around in confusion as leaves crunched under his feet and birds chirped above him. The strong scent of pine filled his nostrils as tall trees towered over him as the sun shone down on him from a bright blue sky. 

"Okay…" Sam said, staring around hopelessly as a bitter laugh escaped his throat. "Wow. I'm in a forest. This just gets better and better..." 

"Hi Sam."

Sam spun around and took a quick intake of breath. "Mom?" He breathed.

Mary smiled softly, her eyes gazing comfortingly into his. "Hey baby…it's okay."

"Mom…you're—you're really here? How? What's going on?" Sam pleaded. "Please, please tell me what's going on. I-I think I'm going crazy, I can't tell what's real and what's not, and—I—I—"

"Ssssshhh." She said gently, putting a finger to his lips to silence him. She ran a hand soothingly through his messy hair and smiled. "Everything will be fine."

"No, I don't think so." Sam interjected, pulling back. "I honestly think I'm going insane, and I don't know how much more I can take! Everything's gone wrong, and Dean—Dean—" 

"Sweetheart—"

"Dean's dead, Mom! He's dead, and I—" he paused, unable to continue, staring helplessly at Mary. "I don't know what to do."

Mary stared at him and nodded firmly. "Well you don't to worry anymore honey. I know what to do."

Sam let out a huge sigh of relief. "Really?"

"Yes. I know exactly what's going on and how to stop it." She continued confidently.

Sam nodded, "Then tell me, Mom. Please. So I can end it."

Mary smiled and cocked her head to one side, studying his face. "Ohh Sam…you make this almost too easy, baby…"

Sam's brow wrinkled in confusion. "What?" 

She shook her head and looked away. Instantly the world darkened and spun around him—and then refocused as the dark interior of a hotel room. 

"…so anyway, I was thinking that we should go scope the place out now, see if we can find anything out of the ordinary before we charge in tonight guns blazing and all."

Sam's eyes widened and he spun around with a gasp. His brother was sitting on the edge of his bed eating a powdered doughnut, _completely alive_, flipping absentmindedly through the channels on a tv as he waited for Sam's response. 

For a second Sam's mind completely shut down as he stared. Stared at his brother, stared at his every movement, each rise and fall of his chest, the way he seemed to inhale rather than chew his food, 

the ghost of a cocky smile present on his face. All things completely, totally Dean—all completely, totally normal. And for one golden moment it was as though the nightmare he had lived for the past week had never happened. He and his brother were on a normal hunt, looking for vampires…or maybe angry spirits. In a moment they would walk out the door together and get in the Impala, and Dean would crank up the volume on a Metallica tape so high thathis ears would bleed. And then—

"Sam?" Dean prompted, jerking Sam out of his thoughts. "Did you hear me?"

Torn back into reality, Sam looked up and saw that Dean had turned off the tv and was staring worriedly back at him. And in that moment, Sam knew that he was fooling himself. That wasn't Dean—it was just another mind game. "You're dead." He whispered, his voice barely audible.

"What did you say?" Dean asked, confused.

Sam shook his head, tore his eyes away from his brother and ran over to the door. He jerked it open and sunlight poured into the room, allowing him to see the Impala parked in the lot outside—perfectly normal. He slammed the door shut again and spun around, striding quickly to the bathroom where he looked behind the door, tugged open the shower curtain—nothing. 

He strode back into the main room and began looking under the beds and opening closets.

Dean sat there on the bed looking completely bewildered. "Uh…Sam? What are you doing?"

Sam's gaze flickered over to his brother for a second before he went back to rifling through the closet. "Look just shut-up, okay?" he snapped angrily, "I know this isn't real! I know you're not really Dean, I know I'm not really in this hotel room, and I'm not falling for this again!"

Dean blinked. "What" 

Sam ignored him, and began scanning the room again for something he might have missed. "There's got to be something here!"

"Sam, calm down man. You're scaring me." Dean said, rising to his feet. "Tell me what's wrong, Sammy."

"No!" Sam yelled, taking a step back, "Don't move! Don't you _dare _move! You stay there, do you hear me?"

"Sammy?" Dean said, sounding hurt, confused, and concerned all at once.

"You sound just like him." Sam muttered bitterly. "Congratulations on that."

"Just like who? Sam, what—"

"Who are you?" Sam yelled at him angrily, pulling out his gun. "I'm sick of your games! I'm sick of you manipulating my memories and emotions! Just show yourself, damn it! Stop playing around—if you're gonna kill me just do it already!"

"Sam, what the hell?" 

"Shut-up!" Sam shrieked, glaring at him. "You're not my brother…you're not Dean! Dean's dead! Dean's dead and I am sick and tired of being played around with!" 

Dean just stared back at him, his mouth hanging open in shock. "Sammy—"

Enraged, Sam let out an exasperated yell and then threw his hands up in mock surrender. "Fine! You want to keep up this charade—go ahead! I'm leaving!" At that, Sam strode over to the door and pulled it open again to leave—

And walked straight into her.

"I'm scared, Sam…I'm really scared."

Sam blinked. He was back in the toy isle in the mall. She was there in front of him, her beautiful blond hair trailing down her back, her green eyes gazing into his. 

Leandra.

And Sam laughed, laughed because he didn't know what else to do or how much of this he could take, and his laughter sounded hollow and sad in his ears. 

Leandra's eyes narrowed and she put her hands on her hips angrily. "What's so funny?" she demanded.

"This is ridiculous." He said, running a hand through his hair.

"What's ridiculous?"

He opened his mouth to speak. God, he wanted to tell her. He wanted to tell her everything. But he knew that it wasn't really her, so he sighed instead and shook his head, "Nothing. It's nothing."

"Good. We need to get out of here, Sam. Those monsters could come back any second—"

Something snapped deep inside him at her words, and another laugh escaped his throat before he could stop it, "I can't believe this—you're still playing along! You honestly still expect me to believe it's really you!" Sam interrupted angrily, his brown eyes flashing, "Let me guess…we're in severe peril, aren't we? Oh God, we'd be in some real trouble, wouldn't we, with all those monsters out there—except that none of this is real."

Leandra's eyebrows shot up. "This isn't the time to have an identity crisis, Sam—"

"Oh, I think I'm way past that." He said simply, walking past her toward the entrance to the store. "Good luck with the monsters!"

"No!" She Leandra said quickly, "Don't go out there, that's where they are!"

"Good, maybe they'll kill me!" Sam shouted back, ducking under the metal grate—

—and appeared in a cemetery. "Great…just great." He muttered sarcastically. "Who's here now? Dad? Bobby? Who's here, come on out and play!"

"I love you Sam."

His heart stopped. Sam gritted his teeth at the sound of the voice. He turned around slowly, fearfully. "Jess."

"I love you." She repeated sweetly.

He stared at her, unable to look away. It was all fake—_she _was fake. He knew that, but couldn't force himself to walk away. "You're not real."

"I missed you, Sam." She said gently, her eyes shining with happiness.

Sam felt a tear slide slowly down his cheek, and he angrily brushed it away. "You're not Jess."

She bit her lip, suddenly sad, "Don't you love me?"

His heart broke. "I—I—of course I—I always—I'll always love her. But you're not her. You're _not_." He said firmly, trying to clear his head. "You're not her…"

She smiled again, but this time the smile was different, and it looked out of place on her face, "But I could be…" She whispered, gently slipping her arms around him. "If you want me to be."

Sam quickly shrugged off her embrace and stepped back. "Stay away from me."

She nodded. "So you don't want me to be Jess?"

Sam stared at her, at a loss for words.

"Okay then." She said, and instantly transformed into the shape of his mother. "Everything will be alright, sweetheart, you'll see."

Sam let out a gasp of shock and stepped backwards, his head spinning. "What—how—"

She changed again, and Dean looked up at him with those deep hazel eyes. "Sammy? What's the matter?"

"Stay away from me—" Sam choked out, "Whatever the hell you are, stay away." He turned and ran, dodging tombstones in the dark. 

Someone grabbed onto his arm and held him back, causing him to fall to the ground with a jolt. He twisted his head and saw Leandra standing above him, a sad look on her face. "I'm sorry, Sam. I didn't mean for this to go so badly."

"Get off of me!" Sam shouted, pulling free of her grip. He ran a few more feet and then froze, staring at what was ahead of him in the dark.

All the monsters he had fought in the parallel universe were standing in a line a few yards away, watching him hungrily.

"Oh…you've _got _to be kidding me…" he moaned.

"Don't worry, they won't hurt you." Leandra's voice said behind him. "I control them."

Sam shut his eyes and ran a hand over his face. "Oh great…of course you do." He paused, studying her. "So it's been you all along, Leandra? Are you really the one behind this, or is this just another one of your schemes to mess with my head?"

"I didn't want to hurt you, Sam."

"Well, that's such a relief." Sam said bitterly, turning towards her and crossing his arms across his chest. "What did you want to do, then?"

She sighed, and looked down. "You're mad at me…"

"You could say that." Sam said harshly, trying to think of a way to escape.

Leandra pushed her long blond hair out of her eyes and studied him sadly. "All I ever wanted was for you to like me...that's why I've been helping you."

Sam gaped at her in disbelief. "Helping me? _Helping me? _You threw me into a freaky alternate reality—"

"I had to!" She burst in. "You don't understand! I had to bring you here because I'm stuck here, I can't leave! It was the only way I could talk to you!"

Sam shook his head, "So what, your idea of a date was running away from mutant wolves? Getting torn apart? Falling down elevator shafts?"

"No! I gave you someone to talk to! I let you see your mother again! I showed you that she was pregnant when she died because you had a right to know—"

"You killed my brother!" Sam shouted.

"No." she whispered firmly, staring at him. "I didn't kill him…he's still alive."

Sam's mouth dropped open. "What! Where is he?" he demanded. 

Leandra frowned, and she put her hands on her hips. "I'm not telling."

Sam gritted his teeth and gripped her shoulders hard. "Tell me." 

"No."

"Damn it! Tell me where he is, Leandra!"

"No! I won't!"

"Why the hell not!" 

"He doesn't deserve to have you as a brother, Sam." She hissed. "You are an amazing person—you try your hardest every day to save everyone you can from evil and make a difference. All Dean does is drink, sleep with random women, and then tell you that you aren't good enough when something bad happens."

Sam's eyes narrowed angrily and he tightened his grip on her. "That's a lie!"

"Is it?" she demanded, "How many times has he kicked you when you were already down? How many times has he made you feel worthless? How many times has he completely ignored you because he couldn't handle something? You're always the one doing research to separate evil from the good, but at the end of the day all your brother wants to do is find something to kill."

Sam was squeezing her shoulders so hard that his hands were white and shaking. "You're wrong."

"You can deny it all you want, but I'm right. Your brother is a cold blooded killer, Sam. And you know what else? He's a hypocrite. He's all kill first and think later with everything—everything except you." She paused, and cocked her head to the side. "When were you planning on telling him that you have demon blood?"

Sam froze and then shook his head, "That's none of your damn business." 

"Why didn't you tell him?" she questioned, "Was it to protect him? Or were you were scared of what he would do when he found out?"

"What are you talking about?" Sam said, glaring at her, "That's not it at all."

"Then what is it? Tell me, I'd love to know."

"Dean would never hurt me." Sam protested. "_Never_."

"Then why didn't you tell him the truth? Why are you hiding it from him?"

Sam opened his mouth to respond but nothing came out, so he shut it again. 

Leandra smiled grimly. "Thought so."

Sam's eyes snapped back to hers. "No! That's not—I—that's not what I meant! I didn't tell him because I wanted to protect him!"

"You don't have to lie to me, Sam." She said soothingly. "It's okay."

"I'm not lying! I—please—" he paused, trying to collect his thoughts, and dropped his hands to his sides. "Please. Just let me see him."

She shrugged. "Fine—but don't say I didn't warn you."

Sam's eyes narrowed in confusion. "What are you talking about?"

"You'll see." She said simply. "Have fun." 

She snapped her fingers, and the world spun again and rearranged itself into another hotel room. Sam looked around cautiously but didn't see anyone—Dean wasn't there. 

"Hello?" he called out softly. "Is anyone here?"

He walked cautiously across the room, looking around. The bathroom door was open—and empty. No one was there…which left the closet.

The closet door was closed. Sam walked up to it slowly, cautiously, and then in one swift movement reached for the doorknob and pulled it open. 

The only reason he survived was because of his quick reflexes. 

He saw the knife coming towards him out of the corner of his eye and dropped to the ground, allowing it to miss him by inches. Sam quickly rolled to the side and then jumped to his feet, looking for his attacker.

A man was standing next to him, his arm holding the knife up again, ready to attack.

"Dean?" Sam whispered. 

Dean just glared at him. His eyes were red, bloodshot, and he looked like he hadn't slept for days. "Back for more?" he growled. "When are you going to just give it up?"

Sam's eyes widened in disbelief. "What?"

Dean laughed and rolled his eyes. "You seriously expect me to fall for that innocent act again? How idiotic do you think I am?"

"What do you mean 'again'?" Sam questioned, trying to figure out what was going on, "Dean, this is the first time I've been here. I…I thought you were dead."

"Liar!" Dean yelled, and lunged forward again. 

Sam dodged out of the way of the blade and then grabbed onto his brother's arm. "Dean—I'm telling the truth! You have to believe me!"

"Why should I believe you? You're not Sam!" Dean broke free of his hold and then kicked Sam hard in the stomach. Sam cried out as he fell back against the wall, but then instantly moved out of the way again as Dean lunged again, missing him by inches. 

"Dean—I don't know what you're talking about!" Sam shouted helplessly.

"Just drop the act!" Dean snarled, "You're wasting your time!"

Sam jumped out of the knife's path and then grabbed onto his brother's arm again, trying to wrestle the knife from him. "Dean—listen to me—"

Dean broke free and then stared at him angrily. "Why aren't you fighting back!" he demanded.

Sam's eyebrows raised in disbelief. "Why the hell would I want to fight you? I'm your brother, Dean!" 

Dean's eyes narrowed. "This is another trick, isn't it?" he said simply, realization growing on his face. "You're going to wait 'till I let my guard down and then kill me, aren't you?"

Sam groaned. "No! Damn it Dean, you're not listening to me!" 

Dean lunged at him again, but this time Sam was ready. He grabbed onto the handle of the knife with one hand and the blade with another and in one swift motion pulled it from his brother's grip. 

Dean's eyes widened and he looked around helplessly for another weapon, his back pressed up against the wall. 

"You honestly think that I'm going to kill you…" Sam said. 

Dean laughed bitterly. "Yeah…I do."

"You're wrong. Listen, I know what's been going on. We're trapped in a freaky alternate reality with this girl that manipulates it as she wishes. She can make you see what she wants you to…and apparently she wanted you to see me trying to kill you for some reason….How many times has someone that looked like me tried to kill you?"

Dean laughed again. "Wow, that's one wacked out theory you've got there—"

"Just answer the question." Sam broke in.

Dean frowned at him. "I've lost count, okay? They walk in here with some sort of weapon and try to kill me, and…and…the only way to make them leave…is…"

Sam stared at him. "Is what?"

Dean looked up at him. "Is to get them first." He said softly.

Sam's eyes widened. "Oh God…" he said softly. He looked at the blade of the knife—it was crusted with dried blood. "Dean…"

"Now do you believe me, Sam?" Leandra said, appearing next to him. 

Sam ignored her, and continued to study his brother. Dean stared back at him, unaware that Leandra had entered the room.

"So…" Dean said, "I know you're not Sam…and If you're gonna kill me…just get it over with."

"How do you know I'm not Sam?" he questioned.

Dean shrugged. "You're just like all the others…" he said simply. "Your eyes."

"…what?" Sam said, confused. 

"Your eyes are wrong…" he said softly.

Sam shook his head. "I don't know what you're talking about." He admitted. "What's wrong with my eyes?"

"Go look." Dean said. "But I know you're not him…I don't know why you insist on keeping this act going…"

Sam turned and walked to the bathroom. He flicked on the light and then looked in the mirror.

His blood ran cold.

Staring back at him out of the mirror were eyes as black as coal—demonic eyes. He blinked hard and then opened his eyes again—still there. "Nice illusion Leandra…" he muttered angrily, flipping off the light and walking back into the room. Dean hadn't moved, he was still standing in the same place by the wall, looking back sadly at him.

Sam walked back over to him, his head spinning. He didn't want to ask his brother the question, but he had to know."Okay, enough with the tough guy act…" he said softly, trying to hide his own fear,"Admit it, Dean—you didn't actually kill anyone that looked like me...did you?" He held his breath, waiting for the answer. 

Dean paused for a moment and then laughed softly, bitterly. He looked down at the ground. "No…" he admitted, "I…I couldn't…even though I knew it wasn't Sam…I couldn't kill them. That's why I've been using the knife instead of my gun. I just stab them in the leg and then barricade myself in the closet. They scream at me for about an hour…and then they leave and the next one comes."

Sam sighed in relief, feelingslightlycomforted by his words. "Dean, look at me." He commanded, and when his brother reluctantly met his eyes he continued, "I'm the real Sam, okay? It's me. And I'm not evil, Leandra's just messing with your head by making my eyes look demonic."

Dean just stared at him. "I wish I could believe you…"

"Believe it." Sam said firmly. He grabbed the knife by the blade and handed the handle to Dean, "Here…take it."

Dean looked at it in disbelief. "What?"

"It's yours." Sam said simply. "Go ahead and do what you want...and if you want to kill me I won't try to stop you."

Dean's breath caught in his throat. Hestood motionless, holding the knife in his hands, looking from it to Sam and back again. Sam spread his arms wide, exposing his chest, and stared his brother straight in the eye. "Go ahead." He said. "Do it."

**Thanks for reading, I hope you liked it! I tried to make this chapter a little longer since I don't get to update very often. ****Please Review!**


	10. Puppy Dog Eyes

**Here's the next chapter—as always, thanks so much to those who review (and especially my consistent reviewers, you guys keep me motivated!) **

"_It's yours." Sam said simply. "Go ahead and do what you want...and if you want to kill me I won't try to stop you."_

_Dean's breath caught in his throat. He stood motionless, holding the knife in his hands, looking from it to Sam and back again. Sam spread his arms wide, exposing his chest, and stared his brother straight in the eye. "Go ahead." He said. "Do it."_

Dean's mouth dropped open, and he stared at Sam in shock. "W-what?"

"You heard me, Dean." Sam said quietly.

Dean stared back at him, his mind racing as his hand tightened around the smooth handle of the knife. "I—I—" he broke off, unable to think of anything to say. What could he say? He didn't have a clue what was going on or what was real. The figure in front of him looked like Sam, sounded like Sam, even had ridiculous puppy dog eyes like Sam—but there was one problem. Those eyes were black. Demonic. "You're a demon." He said.

Sam winced. "No Dean, I'm not. It's just me—just Sam."

"And how am I supposed to believe that?" Dean argued loudly, "How do I know this isn't another trick?"

Sam sighed, "I…I don't know. I guess you just have to trust me."

Dean expelled his breath in a hiss. "You—you—"

"Dean…" Sam interrupted grimly, "I can't prove anything to you, so you might as well stop asking me to. All I can do is assure you that I really am your brother…but if that's not good enough…" he trailed off and gestured to the knife.

Dean looked at Sam, really looked at him, and shook his head. "I can't." he said simply. He opened his fingers and let the knife slide through them and hit the floor. He looked back up at Sam. "You know I can't."

Sam nodded. "I know." He said. He sighed deeply and shut his eyes, running a hand over his face as though to wipe away his exhaustion. When he opened his eyes again he smiled faintly at Dean. "It's so good to see you…" he whispered softly. "I really thought you were dead."

Dean didn't return the smile, but stared back at him, inner struggle evident on his face.

Sam cringed inwardly. "Still don't know if you can trust me?"

"That's because he can't, Sam." Leandra said coldly, stepping forward. "He never has, he never will."

Dean blinked, turning to stare at her for the first time. "Who the hell are you?"

Sam gritted his teeth. "That's Leandra…the one responsible for this nightmare."

"That's a bit harsh…" Leandra protested.

"It's the truth."

Dean glanced from Sam to Leandra, confused. "Would someone mind telling me what's going on?"

"I'm just proving a point, Dean." Leandra said.

"What point?" Dean demanded.

"That Sam's better off with me than with you."

"What?" Dean snapped. "Of course he's better off with me, he's my brother!"

Leandra glared at him. "Oh really? Strong words coming from a man who can't even tell his brother from all the fakes I sent to keep him occupied…"

Dean winced and looked away.

"That's right, Dean—this is Sam. The _real_ Sam. And you tried to kill him, didn't you?" she shook her head, disgusted, "That's not very big-brotherly, is it?"

Sam glared angrily at Leandra. "Just shut-up, okay? He didn't kill me, so your little experiment failed."

"Fine." She said bitterly, "So sorry, Dean. My sincerest apologies…however, I believe Sammy here has something he wants to confess to you."

Sam froze, and his breath caught in his throat.

Dean looked up and saw Sam tense, and when he met his eyes they were full of fear.

Leandra grinned, "Well Sammy? Share with the class…"

Sam shook his head and looked away, terrified.

Dean slowly reached a hand out and rested it tentatively on his brother's shoulder. "Sam?" he said quietly. "What's wrong?"

Leandra laughed. "Sure, he's sympathetic now—"

"Look, would you just shut the hell up!" Dean snapped. "No one asked you to say anything!" he looked back at Sam, who was avoiding his gaze. "Sammy, what is it?" he asked softly.

Sam slowly turned his head to look at his brother. "Dean…I…I…"

"What?" Dean asked, concerned. "Tell me."

Sam took in a deep breath. "You'll hate me." He whispered.

"What?" Dean said, "Sam, I could never hate you, you know that."

Sam nodded, and looked away. "I…I have demon blood."

Dean's eyes widened, and he felt as though his heart skipped a beat. "W-what?"

Sam bit his lip, trying to keep his tears at bay. "The demon…showed me…a couple months ago. When I was a baby, right before…before…the fire…he dripped some of his blood…into my mouth…and…and…" he broke off, unable to continue, and looked away. "I'm sorry." He muttered.

Dean stood there, trying to digest the information. His first thoughts were to deny it—to say the demon had been lying. But had he? Why would he lie about that? It would explain a lot about Sam, after all—his visions, his abilities. So it was the truth then? Sam had demon blood—_demon blood—_blood of the demon who had killed their parents. But so what? He was still Sam, still the same geeky, loveable kid he had taken care of for as long as he could remember. He looked back at his brother and saw that he was still averting his eyes, ashamed, terrified, and it broke his heart.

Dean stepped forward and threw his arms around his brother, pulling him close. He felt Sam tense against him for a moment and then relax, heard him let out a shaky breath and then weakly return the hug. "So what?" Dean said fiercely. "It doesn't change _anything_, Sammy—I'm not going anywhere. It'll take a lot more than a little thing like demon blood to get rid of me."

Sam nodded, his face pressed up against his brother's shoulder, and for the first time in days he closed his eyes and allowed himself to breathe deeply, feeling as though a great weight had been lifted off of his shoulders. "Good …" he muttered. "That's good."

Dean frowned and then stepped back and held his brother at arm-length, forcing him to look at him. "Why were you so scared to tell me? What did you think I was going to say?" he demanded.

Sam shrugged. "I don't know," he said truthfully, "I mean…I know you wouldn't have tried to kill me or anything, but… I just didn't want you to know…because…" he trailed off and shut his mouth.

"Because _what_, Sam?" Dean prompted.

Sam sighed. "Because I didn't want you to look at me differently." He admitted sadly.

Dean grimaced. "Sam…you can't honestly think that I would—that I—Sammy. Look at me."

Sam reluctantly turned his head to look at his brother, waiting.

"Sam, I don't know what you want me to say, man." He said seriously, "You know I loathe all chick-flick moments…but…listen to me."

Sam nodded, listening.

"Just because you have demon blood…" he began, "Doesn't mean that you get any extra privileges. Don't think that this means you get to drive the Impala now, because you would be severely mistaken."

For a second Sam just stared blankly at him, and then he let out the breath he had been holding and grinned weakly, rolling his eyes. "Dean—"

"No, don't interrupt me." Dean continued, holding his hand up in mock seriousness, "I'm trying to have a touching moment here. Now where was I? Ah yes…I am still going to treat you like the annoying little kid brother that you are…and I expect you to keep treating me with the admiration that I know you feel for someone as totally awesome as me—"

"You're unbelievable…" Sam muttered, grinning and shaking his head.

"Exactly!" Dean said with a smile, "That's what I'm talking about. I _am_ unbelievably awesome, and as long as we both know that everything will be fine."

Sam's smile widened and he shook his head. "Jerk."

"Bitch." Dean quipped back, giving Sam's shoulder a squeeze before he let go. "You okay?"

Sam nodded. "Yeah…thanks."

Dean shrugged. "For what?"

"For just…being you." Sam said softly, amazed at how easily his brother was able to cheer him up despite the dire circumstances they were always in.

Dean grinned again and glanced around the room. "Anytime, Sammy…anytime." He said, "But unfortunately it seems that our little talk scared off that girl…what did you say her name was again?"

"Shit." Sam whispered, the news succeeding in jolting him back to the current situation.

Dean's eyebrows rose, "Shit? That's a terrible name…"

Sam groaned, "No, that's not what I meant and you know it—her name's Leandra."

"Right." Dean said, watching Sam trying to cover up his initial panicked reaction. "Sooo I'm guessing from the look on your face that her absence isn't a good thing."

"No." Sam said, deciding not to sugar coat the truth, "It means we're in big trouble."

"Why?"

"Leandra's the only person that can get us out of here."

Dean shook his head, "What are you talking about? We can just walk out the door."

Sam shook his head. "Well, we could…but that wouldn't really do us any good in the grand scheme of things—we're still in the alternate world."

"Oh." Dean said, thinking. "You mean the monster infested evil world of death?"

"Yep, that's the one." Sam said glumly.

"Well that doesn't sound good. Can't you just…call her back here or something? Reason with her to send us back?"

Sam grimaced. "Nope…I'm pretty sure she's mad at me right now."

"Why?"

"Ohh…probably because I chose you over her."

Dean shook his head and ran a hand down his face, "Seriously, Sam, you need to start avoiding these kinds of relationships…"

"Hey, she seemed nice at the beginning!" Sam protested. "She was very helpful and—and—"

"And then what? She turned all evil and declared her love for you?"

"Well…"

"Sam!"

"What? It's not my fault!"

"Like hell it's not! Truthfully I blame your big puppy-dog eyes—" Dean leaned forward and stared critically up at his brother, "Yep, definitely a chick magnet, you might as well have 'sensitive, 

caring, and loveable' written across your forehead! From now on you're wearing a blindfold everywhere we go."

Sam glared at Dean and opened his mouth to respond—and a wave of pain slammed through him like hundreds of daggers, twisting and stabbing right through his soul. Caught off guard, Sam's knees buckled beneath him and he fell forward as the world seemed to spin around him, barely aware that his brother reached out and caught him at the last second.

Dean staggered under his brother's dead weight in his arms and managed to gently lie him down on the floor. He stared Sam's expression of agony and his mind kicked into full blown panic mode as he tried to figure out what was going on. "Sam? Sammy, talk to me! Tell me what's wrong!"

Eyes squeezed shut, Sam struggled to breathe as he lied there. He could hear Dean's panicked voice from what sounded like miles away but couldn't respond. Wave after wave of agonizing pain slammed through him, and his lungs burned as though they had been sealed shut. He couldn't breathe, there was no air—

"Sam!" Dean yelled frantically, watching his brother struggle to breathe, "Sammy, you have to talk to me—I can't—I don't know what's wrong!"

Barely conscious, Sam managed to open his eyes and stared up into his brother's terrified face. "De…" he whispered weakly, and as his vision spotted and darkened he watched his brother's lips move silently in response, forming words of reassurance that he couldn't hear.

All of the sudden Sam froze, his eyes rolled back in his head, and with one last shudder his head fell backwards lifelessly.

**Please Review, tell me what you think!! **


	11. Kill Him

_Barely conscious, Sam managed to open his eyes and stared up into his brother's terrified face. "De…" he whispered weakly, and as his vision spotted and darkened he watched his brother's lips move silently in response, forming words of reassurance that he couldn't hear. _

_All of the sudden Sam froze, his eyes rolled back in his head, and with one last shudder his head fell backwards lifelessly. _

"Sam!" Dean shouted, desperately shaking his brother's shoulders. "Oh God, Sam, don't do this to me…" he quickly grabbed his brother's wrist and checked for a pulse—nothing.

"No…" Dean whimpered, his mind racing to find something he could do—this couldn't be happening, it wasn't real—

Sam's eyes snapped open.

Dean blinked in surprise and then exhaled slowly, weak with relief. "Sammy? Oh thank God…"

Instead of responding, Sam's eyes shifted to lock on his, his face stoic and void of expression.

Dean's relief vanished, extinguished by an icy fear that shot straight through him, "…Sam?"

Sam didn't respond, and continued to stare straight ahead, his eyes vacant and cold.

Dean waved a hand in front of his brother's face, only to be rewarded with no response. "This can't be good…" Dean muttered worriedly.

"Oh no, is the infamous Dean Winchester confused? Tisk tisk…"

Dean stood up and spun around at the sound of her voice. She was standing behind him, arms crossed, leaning casually against the wall.

"Leandra." Dean said coldly.

"Good guess, little man…"

Dean glared at her. "What did you do to Sam?"

She grinned. "Why…I'm controlling him, silly. I would have thought that would be obvious to you…but then again you aren't exactly the smart one, are you?"

"Let him go."

Leandra laughed. "Okay, if you say so." She said mockingly, absentmindedly twisting a blonde strand of hair around her finger.

Dean glared at her.

She shrugged. "What? Did you honestly think it would be that easy?"

"Why are you doing this?" he demanded.

"Honestly Dean, it's pretty simple. I'll try to explain in words you can understand. I'm a demon. My boss tells me which hunters he wants dead, and I bring them to this lovely world and kill them, thus making Earth a friendlier place to live in."

Dean's eyes narrowed. "They want Sam dead?"

Leandra snorted. "Well…yeah, obviously. He was their golden boy for a while, but now that it's apparent he's gonna keep on fighting for the good—well—you get the idea. Truth is, Dean, Sam's not the favorite anymore. There are others like him—less powerful, perhaps, but others nonetheless, that are capable of controlling the demon army…and they're much more easily persuadable."

"I won't let you kill him." Dean growled.

Leandra laughed. "Dean, if I'd wanted to kill him, don't you think I would have done it already?"

Dean's brow furrowed in confusion. "What?"

She shook her head. "Wow, you really are clueless, aren't you…let me spell it out for you: I'm not going to kill Sam!" She said, exasperated. "I've changed my mind. He's…grown on me, I have to admit. He's sweet and pleasant to talk to, and it gets really, really lonely living in this world all by myself. The demons all want him out of the way…and if Sam's here with me, he's out of their way. It's a win-win situation for everyone."

"He'd never agree to stay here with you." Dean said.

Leandra nodded. "I know, but believe me, sweetie, I can change that. It'll be easy…I'll just wipe some things, namely you, from his memory. After all, you're the only stable presence in his life, right? Without you he's all alone…no one to talk to…"

"I won't let you."

"Well…you'll be dead, so you don't really get a say in the matter."

Dean pulled out his gun and pointed it at her. "You're not killing me."

She nodded. "I don't plan to—Sam is. Course, he won't remember doing it, if that's any consolation—"

Something slammed into the back of Dean's head, hard. He staggered forward, catching himself before he fell, and spun around quickly.

Sam stood poised behind him, a metal lamp grasped tightly in his right hand.

"Sam…don't do this." Dean said desperately, ready to dive out of the way. "You have to fight her!"

"A lamp?" Leandra said, laughing. "Aww Sammy, you're too cute. Put the stupid thing down and try using something a little more dangerous—like a knife, a gun…you know, big boy toys."

Sam instantly dropped the lamp and it hit the floor with a clatter. He turned, face expressionless, and picked up the gun that had materialized on the dresser beside him.

"That's it…" Leandra purred.

Dean looked at his brother, fear racing through him. "Sam…don't…"

Sam turned back toward Dean, void of all emotion, and raised the gun, aiming for his brother's heart.

Dean's eyes widened. "Whoa, Sam stop! It's me—it's Dean—your brother. Come on, Sammy, you have to remember me! Don't do this—put the gun down—"

"Shoot. Him." Leandra commanded coldly.

Sam nodded, his eyes fixed on Dean's. His finger tightened on the trigger—

"No!" Dean shouted. "Sammy—"

"Shut up, Dean!" Leandra yelled angrily. "What are you waiting for, Sam?! Shoot him!"

Sam stood there, looking from Leandra to Dean as though unsure of what to do, his gun still pointed at his brother.

"Do it!" Leandra screamed.

"Sammy…" Dean said softly.

Sam's eyes snapped to Dean's.

"Sam, Leandra's controlling you, you have to fight her—"

"He's lying!" Leandra countered, stepping forward. "Don't listen to him."

"Sam, it's me. It's Dean, okay? You don't want to shoot me. Put the gun down." Dean said softly, his heart racing.

Sam stood there, the gun shaking in his grip as he tried desperately to come to a decision.

"This is ridiculous…" Leandra muttered, disgusted. "Kill him, Sam!"

"NO!" Sam finally screamed, his voice contorted in pain. He dropped the gun and fell to his knees, his head spinning from his inner battle to regain control.

Dean's eyes widened, and he stepped forward toward his brother. "Sam—"

"Dean, no!" Sam choked out, forcing his eyes open, "Stay—stay back—" he hurriedly picked the gun back up and slid it away across the ground to his brother's feet. "K-keep that…away from me…"

Dean took no notice of the gun at his feet and instead kept his eyes locked on his brother. "Sam, you have to fight her—"

"Get out of here…" Sam pleaded, staring up at him. "Dean—y-you have to leave—she's so strong—I d-don't know how long I can maintain control—"

"Damn it, Sam, I'm not just gonna leave you—"

Sam cried out again, clutching his head in his hands.

Dean angrily turned toward Leandra. "Let him go!" he spat, pointing his gun at her.

She glared back at him, unafraid. "No! No, I'm not going to just let him go!" she said dangerously. "He's mine now, understand, Dean? You had your chance—over and over again! I don't understand it, I really don't—why the hell does Sam put up with you?"

Dean blinked. "What the hell are you talking about?!"

"I don't know if you've noticed, Dean, but you're the reason that your brother's life is a shitload of pain! You and your father tore him apart with your little hunting obsession—"

"That's not true!"

"Yes it is!" she said with a bitter laugh, "Sam wasn't cut out for that life and you knew it! But you just couldn't let him be happy, could you? Oh no, you had to drag him back from the life of normalcy he had escaped to college to find. You had to rip him away from his girlfriend, from the normal life he could have had—"

"Shut-up!" Dean yelled.

"Why don't you shut-up, Dean? Haven't you caused him enough pain?" Leandra hissed, stepping toward him, "What can you possibly give him? An old, beat up car? Some Metallica tapes? What? Tell me, I'd love to know!"

Dean's breath hitched in his throat and he stood there silently, unable to think of anything to say.

"Nevermind." Leandra said with a smirk. "I don't really care what you have to say, and it looks like Sam's ready to have another try at killing you. Try not to mess it up this time."

Dean breathed in sharply and turned around. Sam was standing behind him, blankly staring at nothing. "Sammy…"

"Ready to try again, sweetheart?" Leandra cooed. "I see you've managed to lose your gun—don't worry, that's not a problem." As she spoke another gun appeared next to him on the dresser, and Sam picked it up.

"Don't worry, Dean." Leandra said, "Your pathetic life will be all over soon…"

Sam raised the gun and aimed.

"Sorry Sam." Dean whispered, averting his eyes.

Sam fired.

**Oh no! Another Cliffie! I couldn't resist, sorry—but if you all REVIEW I would definitely be motivated to update soon… :)**


	12. Who Are You?

**Here's the next chapter—I had a lot of fun with this one…enjoy!**

"_Don't worry, Dean." Leandra said, "Your pathetic life will be all over soon…"_

_Sam raised the gun and aimed. _

_"Sorry Sam." Dean whispered, averting his eyes._

_Sam fired._

Dean jerked at the sound of the gunshot, waiting for the pain—

It never came.

Leandra let out a shriek beside him. Dean's eyes snapped up and stared at her—there was a bullet hole right between her eyes.

Breathing heavily, she gazed right through him, eyes wide from the shock of what had happened. She drew in one final shaky breath and then collapsed in a heap on the ground.

Dean stared at her body for a moment, and then slowly turned to look at Sam.

Sam had the gun held loosely down at his side. For a moment they just stared at each other.

"What—how—" Dean demanded, unsure of what he was even asking.

Sam winced. "I gained full control while she was arguing with you…but I figured the best thing to do would be to pretend that I…well…that I was going to shoot you."

"Oh." Dean said.

"I wanted to let you know what was going on, but—"

"You couldn't without her finding out too." Dean finished, looking away. "I get it, Sam."

Sam didn't move, he just continued staring at his brother. "Dean…you thought I was going to kill you…and you didn't even try to stop me."

Dean cringed inwardly. "Yeah I did—"

"No," Sam interrupted forcefully. "You didn't."

They stood there silently for another moment, and then Sam spoke up again, hesitantly, "Dean…you weren't actually listening to what she was saying, were you? You didn't actually believe it?"

"No." Dean said, a little too quickly. "Of course not."

"Dean…she was making stuff up to upset you…"

"Was she?" Dean spoke up bitterly, finally looking up at him. "Sam, I—just admit it. She was right…all I ever do is drag you down deeper and deeper into…" he trailed off and waved his arms around, "…all this shit."

Sam raised his eyebrows in disbelief. "Okay, just stop." He said firmly. "There are so many things wrong with that last statement that it's just ridiculous."

"What?"

"Well, honestly Dean, you're making it sound as though you force me to stick around—"

"I—"

"Look, would you just stop talking for a second and listen to me?" Sam interrupted briskly, watching as Dean frowned and looked away. "You don't force me to stick around—I want to stick around. I am perfectly capable of leaving anytime I want—I just don't want to!"

"That doesn't make any sense, Sam!" Dean broke in.

"Yeah, Dean, it does, and if you were paying attention you would see that."

"_No_ Sammy, I—"

BANG

The loud crack of the gunshot echoed in the small hotel room.

Silence.

Dean froze mid-sentence, his lips still slightly parted, startled.

Sam stared back at him, wide eyed.

As though in a dream, Dean slowly brought his hand up from his side and gently touched his chest, pulling his hand back slowly so that he could see it.

Crimson blood trickled down his fingers.

He opened his mouth to speak, but a harsh cough broke free in place of words, and as he struggled to draw another breath the floor seemed to drop out from under him.

Sam watched his brother collapse in front of him—but he did nothing.

Eyes wide, horrified, he stared, the gun still smoking in his shaking hand.

Inside he was screaming—but he couldn't make a sound.

He watched as Dean slowly managed to raise his head off the ground and stare up at him, confusion and pain evident in his gaze. "S-sam?" he choked.

And oh—_God_—the look in his eyes—

Sam raised the gun a second time. Aimed right between his brother's eyes at point-blank range.

Dean blinked hard, trying to force his vision to clear. Once the spinning room calmed down a fraction, he opened his green eyes again. He stared back at Sam, saw his brother's wide, horrified gaze, saw the tears trickling down his face, and saw the barrel of the gun pointed at his head. And in that moment he realized what was happening. "It's okay, Sammy…" he whispered weakly. "I know it's not you."

Sam felt his finger tightening on the trigger.

Dean grinned faintly. "Love you, little brother."

BANG

Sam watched it all happen as though it was in slow motion. He watched the bullet leave the gun. He watched as it hit its mark right in the center of his brother's forehead. He watched as Dean's body fell back lifelessly.

He watched, but he didn't believe.

"Nooooooooo—" he wailed, unaware that the tortured sound was even coming from his own lips. Suddenly free to move again, he dropped the gun and dashed over to his brother's side, willing it not to have happened—

But Dean was motionless, his eyes frozen and staring at nothing, blood pooling from a small hole in the center of his forehead.

He was dead.

Dead.

"No." Sam whispered, tears pouring down his cheeks. "No no no no—" sobbing, he rested his head on his brother's chest, feeling his comforting warmth for the last time, breathing in the scent of his leather jacket. "Dean…noo…"

"I'm disappointed in you, Sam." A voice said in his ear. "I expected more."

Sam blinked and his head shot up. Leandra was standing next to him, gazing at him critically.

"You—" Sam yelled back, hatred pulsing through him as he leapt to his feet. "You killed him—you—you bitch!"

"No, Sam, I didn't kill him. _You_ did."

Sam didn't respond to her empty accusation. He couldn't. How could he have let this get so far? How could he have let this happen? Trembling with anger, sorrow, horror, despair, and a thousand other emotions, he just stood there, torn between ripping her apart and throwing up.

"Finally speechless?" Leandra said softly. "Good. It's going to be okay, Sam. I know you're angry, but you don't need your brother." She reached out and grabbed his hand. "I'm all you'll ever need."

Sam pulled his hand back as though he'd been burned. "No."

Her eyes flashed. "Don't fight me, Sam. You'll lose."

"…lose what? I've already lost everything…" He whispered inaudibly, the realization hitting him like a ton of bricks.

Her eyes narrowed. "What?"

He looked back up at her, using his hand to try to wipe away some of his tears. "I said I've already lost everything." He repeated numbly.

Leandra nodded. "Don't worry. I'll take care of you—we'll be happy together."

Sam shook his head. "I don't think you understood me…I've lost _everything_."

"You already said that." Leandra said testily. "I heard you."

"Bring him back." Sam said, his voice expressionless.

"No." she said simply. "I don't want to, and even if I did I don't have that kind of power."

"You can…" Sam said dangerously. "You can. This is your world…the one you created."

Leandra sighed. "Sam, I realize that this is difficult for you, but—"

"Bring him back."

"No."

"_Bring him back!_"

"I won't!"

Sam advanced toward her menacingly. "YES YOU _WILL_!!" he yelled at the top of his voice. All of the windows in the room shattered at once, showering the room with shards of glass.

Leandra gasped, stepping backwards fearfully. "Sam…I…I _can't_…"

"Liar…" Sam spat, continuing to walk towards her.

Leandra backed up until she was against the wall. She was terrified of the man in front of her. The sweet, soft-spoken man was gone, replaced by something far, far worse. His eyes were wild, cold, cruel. Sam Winchester was gone.

The world around them was blurring; darkness, light, darkness, light—

"What are you doing?" Leandra demanded frantically. It had all spiraled out of her control—somehow he was taking over her world. She doubled over in pain as her head felt like it was being split open. "Stop it!"

"Bring him back."

"I can't!" she sobbed. "Oh God Sam, I can't! Please—"

Sam angrily flung his arm to the side and Leandra was hurled across the room like a rag doll. She hit the wall with a sickening thud and fell in a heap on the floor. Sam walked toward her, watching her as she moaned and struggled to get up. "Having fun?" he said cruelly.

"Sam…please…" Leandra whimpered.

"Just do what I want you to do…and I'll leave you alone."

"I can't! I don't have that kind of power!" She protested.

Sam opened his mouth to respond, but a movement outside the broken windows caught his eye. He turned slightly and saw a pack of fifty wolves waiting outside the hotel. "Called in the cavalry, have you?"

Leandra remained where she was, curled up in a ball on the floor. "Sam, you have to stop this. You're not acting like yourself—"

"You killed my brother," Sam said with a laugh, "How can you lecture me about how I act?"

"Dean wouldn't want—"

"You don't have any damn idea what Dean would want!" Sam broke in angrily. "No one does—he's dead!"

The wolves outside the window all jumped in onto the broken glass one by one, snarling and snapping their jaws as they circled around their prey. Sam didn't move, he just stared at the fifty blood thirsty animals, thinking. "Is this all you've got for me, Leandra?" he questioned, a frightening smile on his face, "Wolves?"

The first wolf leapt, but before it even touched him Sam flicked his wrist and sent it flying into the opposite wall. It whimpered and slowly got back to its feet. Sam eyed the rest of the wolves, daring them to move.

They all leapt at once, burying Sam in one heavy mass of muscle, bone, and snapping jaws.

Sam felt the beasts on him. He felt their claws and teeth digging deep and tearing into his flesh like it was paper. "No!" he gasped, trying to break free. It was impossible, he couldn't move, couldn't breathe. There was nothing but pain. Deep, torturous pain, pain that shot straight through him. Everything else was extinguished, every last element of him that made him Sam was gone, leaving nothing at all. Nothing but—rage.

An inhumane shriek erupted from his throat and he jumped to his feet, hurling the wolves as a giant mass across the room and into the wall with sickening force. They fell to the ground and lied still, whimpering, watching him—afraid.

Breathing hard, Sam looked around the room, searching for—"Leandra."

Leandra was sitting on a bed in the middle of the room. Her messy blond hair framing her face in thick wispy strands of gold, her eyes wide with fear. "Who…who are you?" she whispered.

Sam didn't say anything for a long while. He stood there, bleeding from every square inch on his body, the flesh ripped away to the bone in multiple places. "You know who I am." He said coldly.

"No. I don't." Leandra said simply, the look on her face a mixture of terror and awe. "I thought I did—I thought—but you fooled me. They were right…about you. You're the one, Sam. You're the one that will lead us."

**Please REVIEW and tell me what you're thinking! Ideas are welcome, and feedback keeps me motivated to update!**


	13. You're Not Here

**This chapter is ****very**** sad and ****very**** graphic. You have been warned—Now enjoy!**

_Leandra was sitting on a bed in the middle of the room. Her messy blond hair framing her face in thick wispy strands of gold, her eyes wide with fear. "Who…who are you?" she whispered._

_Sam didn't say anything for a long while. He stood there, bleeding from every square inch on his body, the flesh ripped away to the bone in multiple places. "You know who I am." He said coldly._

"_No. I don't." Leandra said simply, the look on her face a mixture of terror and awe. "I thought I did—I thought—but you fooled me. They were right…about you. You're the one, Sam. You're the one that will lead us."_

Silence.

Sam's breath caught in his throat as her words shattered through the wall of rage his mind had constructed, and in an instant the reality of the situation and all he had done crashed back upon him. He took an involuntary step backwards, and shards of glass crackled underneath his feet.

Leandra's expression of complete adoration remained fixed on her face, and she quickly got down from the bed and kneeled at his feet.

Sam shook his head, terrified, and ignored the sweat that dripped down into his eyes. "No."

Leandra didn't say anything, and she remained kneeling motionless at his feet, her gaze averted respectfully.

Sam looked away from her and his gaze fell upon the wolves, all lying motionless on their stomachs, eyeing him with fear. "No, I—No! I'm _not_—" he looked back at Leandra. "Get up!"

Leandra looked up at him and slowly rose to her feet. "Yes Master." She said reverently.

"Don't call me Master…" Sam said. "I'm not your leader, okay? I'm not—you've got the wrong idea!"

Leandra shook her head and said nothing, still refusing to meet his gaze.

Sam angrily wiped a hand across his face to stop his sweat from dripping into his eyes—and his hand came away drenched with blood. "Oh God…." He whispered, shocked, suddenly aware that he had been hurt. He looked down at his body and recoiled at what he saw. His jeans were ripped and torn to shreds, revealing large missing chunks of flesh. Every inch of his arms and torso were marred with bite marks and huge bloody gashes. A huge flap of skin on his lower arm was barely still attached, and the skin hung down grotesquely to reveal several inches of white bone. Sam shook his head, horrified, nauseated. "Oh—oh God—I—" he looked at Leandra, his eyes wide. "How—h-how—"

"You are the one." She said simply.

"I—but—it doesn't even hurt!" Sam stammered frantically. "Why doesn't it hurt?! I should be dead!" he stepped backwards again to escape the crimson puddle of blood that had collected under his feet.

"You are the one."

"Stop saying that!" Sam snapped. "I'm not! I'm not the one! I'm not leading your damn army! Do you understand me?!"

Leandra didn't say anything.

"Look at me!" Sam yelled. "Why the hell won't you look at me?!"

"Others will be here soon," Leandra said quietly, her eyes downcast as though he hadn't spoken. "They have heard."

"Others?" Sam said quickly. "What have they heard?"

"You know." She said simply.

"No, let's pretend for a second that I don't know. What have they heard?"

"That you are the one."

Sam's face contorted in anger. "STOP SAYING THAT!" he bellowed.

She flinched, but remained standing motionlessly in front of him.

"If you're not going to help me, then just _leave_!" Sam shouted angrily, reached out a hand to push her.

His hand never even touched her. Leandra flew backwards across the room, hit the wall with a sickening crack and then fell to the ground, motionless.

Sam stood there for a moment, shocked, and then realized what had happened. "No…" he whispered, rushing over to her side. She had landed face down, her hair hiding her face from view. Sam dropped to his knees at her side, terrified. "Leandra?" he whispered. "I—I'm so—I'm so sorry, I—" his voice trailed off, and he slowly reached out and grasped her shoulder and turned her over.

Leandra's neck was twisted and bent at a grotesque angle, her eyes wide and vacant.

She was dead.

Sam let go of her as though he had been burned and jumped to his feet, his mind reeling. He stumbled backwards, horrified, desperate to escape—

Without warning his foot caught on something lying on the floor and he fell backwards onto the ground with a thud. He sat up quickly, and looked to see what it was he had tripped over—

Sam's legs were lying over Dean's torso, his vacant eyes staring right through him, blood soaking through the carpet under his head.

Sam turned to the side and retched, emptying the contents of his stomach onto the floor until there was nothing but dry heaves left. He started sobbing, and tears streamed freely down his blood stained cheeks. "Noo…no, no, no, nooo, _please_, no…"

Without thinking he crawled over to his brother and laid his head down on his already cooling chest, sobbing uncontrollably into his jacket. "D-dean, wake up…" he gasped between sobs, shaking his brother's shoulders. "Dean—please—you have to wake up! You—you have—I need you!" he sobbed, "I-I need you, you promised you would a-always be here when I needed you! Y-you promised, and you're not here! You're not—h-here—"

**PLEASE REVIEW!**

**I know, I know…short and sweet (well, maybe not so sweet—sad and heartbreaking maybe). I debated on whether to end it there and decided that it was the best thing to do in order to make the next chapter turn out as I want it to. So, sorry to leave you hanging like that, but get your tissues and be ready for the next chapter! As always, reviews encourage me to post faster, and thanks to all who keep reviewing, I love you guys!**


	14. Let There Be Light

_Without thinking Sam crawled over to his brother and laid his head down on his already cooling chest, sobbing uncontrollably into his jacket. "D-dean, wake up…" he gasped between sobs, shaking his brother's shoulders. "Dean—please—you have to wake up! You—you have—I need you!" he sobbed, "I-I need you, you promised you would a-always be here when I needed you! Y-you promised, and you're not here! You're not—h-here—"_

Sam Winchester was cold.

Very cold.

He woke, shivers wracking through his body as the relentless wind gushed through the broken window, cooling the air around him.

Rain pattered angrily against the ground outside, but Sam ignored it. He was dry. His blood had long since dried and caked against his skin, leaving gaping scabbed wounds and holes in his flesh that desperately needed stitched up.

_Get your ass up and moving, Sammy! What the hell are you trying to do, get yourself killed? _

"Maybe…" Sam whispered absentmindedly, responding to Dean's imaginary voice in his head like it was natural as his mind slowly cleared. In a way, it was natural. He and Dean had been together so long, he could usually predict what Dean was going to say or do. Right now, Sam knew that Dean would be pissed as hell, worried, and angry at him for not taking care of himself.

But Sam didn't care. Let him be pissed, what did it matter? He was dead.

Sam shifted slightly, feeling the cold resonating up from under his head but refusing to acknowledge it as he tried to keep his mind numb to his current situation. He didn't want to think, he didn't want to feel. He just wanted to find a bar and drink himself to oblivion. Not that that could even find one in this godforsaken world, or that it would ever really help if he did.

Sam Winchester was cold. His head was lying on his brother's chest, and it was as cold as ice, as hard as stone. Dean was dead. He had shot him.

Sam sighed, his red-rimmed eyes open and gazing upward through the darkness. "I can't believe I fell asleep." He muttered out loud, running a hand over his face. "I mean…" he laughed bitterly, "I fell asleep. Now…in the midst of all this. Course, it makes sense. You were always the one that could calm me down when I was upset… even…even when…you're d-dead—" he broke off, unable to continue.

Sam was quiet for a moment as he gained back his composure, and then he spoke again, his voice forcibly light and conversational, "So, I figure…I have absolutely no idea what to do. Leandra's dead…I killed her. I killed her, Dean. And I know she was evil, and I know that she—she killed—" he shook his head again, refusing to say what he was thinking. "Anyway, I didn't mean to kill her. I swear I didn't." he paused again before adding, "And now I'm thinking…if she had been controlling this world, shouldn't it have disappeared when she died?"

Silence.

"But it's still here." Sam continued, "It's still here, and I'm here, and you—you—you're here too. It doesn't make sense."

The silence was unbearable. Sam tried to ignore it, tried to imagine his brother's voice, tried to comfort himself by pretending. He shut his eyes. "Oh God…" he whispered. "Dean, I don't know what to do…"

Silence.

"I'm talking to you…like you're going to respond, and I can basically hear your answers in my head. How pathetic is that?" he sucked in a deep breath, "I feel like I'm suffocating. Like there's no air, and I'm drowning. I'm drowning, and I'm all alone. And I'm so _sorry_, Dean. I shot you. I _shot_ you…for the second damn time." He laughed bitterly, "I totally suck as a brother…"

He paused, thinking, "But, I guess in a way it's good that you're not here…cause if you could see me now…torn up like this…defeating packs of mutant wolves and accidently killing demons…well…I'm pretty sure you'd have to take Dad up on his offer to put a bullet to my head."

Silence.

"What am I supposed to do now?"

Silence.

"Am I supposed to just walk away? Am I supposed to just leave you here, find out how to get back to the real world?" Sam sighed, and opened his eyes again to stare blankly ahead. "I—I honestly don't know if I can."

Silence.

"Dean…you were—_are_— everything to me. You're my brother, my protector, my best friend, the _only_ person that could have _ever_ put Nair in my shampoo and lived to tell about it. You're the one that I could always count on to annoy me to no damn end and then somehow manage to make me laugh and forget that I was mad in the first place. You're…you're a jerk, you're a womanizer, you're completely afraid of your own feelings, and I…I _love_ you. " Sam paused, tears streaming down his face, and then continued strongly, "So I'm sorry Dean, but I'm not just going to leave. I'm not just going to move on. I need you to be alive. I need you here, with me, to make stupid jokes and convince me that everything is going to be magically okay. And I know it's not, I know that our lives are a million miles from okay, but…I…I just…"

Silence.

"I just need _you_."

Sam squeezed his eyes shut, thinking hard. He was in way over his head—he was never going to be able to fix this—Dean was dead and there was nothing he could do, nothing he could say—he couldn't fix this—couldn't help—he had shot Dean—shot him in the head—and the blood—sticky, crimson, trickling down everywhere, soaking the carpet—all over him—all over everything—Dean—he couldn't be dead—so cold—he wasn't dead—wasn't dead—not dead, not dead—no no no no—

"NOO!" Sam screamed, the sound breaking through his throat and resounding throughout the room. "Damn it!" he sat up, his heart pounding in his chest, and kneeled beside his brother, staring down at his corpse in fury. "How could you do this to me?! How, Dean?! How could you leave me like this?!"

Silence.

A primal scream ripped through Sam's throat and he pounded his fist down on his brother's cold chest with all his strength. "This is all your fault! You let me shoot you! You could have stopped me, why the hell didn't you stop me?!" He pounded his fist on his brother's chest—again and again and again and again, his fists pounding down in unrestrained fury—

A blinding, golden burst of light suddenly erupted from Sam, filling the entire room. Sam stopped mid-swing, eyes wide with shock. He could feel power surging through him, searing light and heat that poured from every part of him all at once. Sam gasped and hurriedly jumped to his feet, terrified, as the intensity of the light burned his eyes. Unable to see anything, Sam squeezed his eyes shut.

Standing in the middle of the hotel room, Sam suddenly realized that his whole body was throbbing in pain from his injuries. He took a step backwards and his legs gave out beneath him and he collapsed in a heap on the floor. The impact with the ground jarred his already broken body, and he screamed in pain. He tried to open his eyes but the light was too bright, causing tears to stream down his cheeks—or maybe that was from the pain. He wasn't entirely sure.

What the hell was going on?

Where was Dean?

Dead. Dean was dead.

"Oh God…" he gasped, "Make it stop…just…oh God…it hurts…it…" the power continued to pour out of him as light, getting brighter and brighter and—

Darkness. The light went out.

Sam whimpered in agony as his whole body continued throbbing in pain, just without the light. He remained as he had fallen on the floor, motionless, for what seemed like hours.

After a long time the stabbing pain faded to a dull ache, and Sam opened his eyes. The hotel room slowly came into focus, and he blinked a few times to clear his vision.

He was lying in a pool of blood. His whole body was covered in blood just like before, but—

Sam froze and blinked harder, lifting his arm up to his face so that he could see it better. The gaping wound in his arm was gone—gone without a trace. He inspected the rest of his body and saw that all of the gashes, tears, and scratches that the pack of wolves had left were all gone, leaving him covered in blood but completely unmarked.

"What the hell just happened?" Sam muttered, trying to make sense of it. "I—I just—what did I do?" A small noise from the other side of the room made Sam's head snap up in alarm. His mouth dropped open in shock.

Dean was sitting up on the other side of the room, staring at him as though he didn't know what to think. His hair was messy and he was blinking rapidly as though to clear his vision. The bullet wound in the center of his forehead had vanished, and it looked as though he had just woken up from a nap on the floor.

A strangled noise escaped Sam's throat as he stared at his brother, a million thoughts running through his head. This wasn't Dean. It couldn't be Dean, he was dead…

Sam watched as the Dean's eyes finally focused on him and widened in horror. "Oh my God…" he gasped. "Sammy—what happened?!" Dean tried to stand up but his legs refused to hold his weight and he collapsed back to the ground.

Sam didn't move. "…D-dean?"

"Sammy—you're covered in blood—you—"

Sam just stared at him, unsure of what to think. He wanted Dean to be alive—but what if this was a trick?

Dean took Sam's silence to mean that he was hurt, and he hurriedly tried to stand again. Why did it feel as though he had been hit by a truck? His whole body was stiff and didn't want to cooperate.

Sam watched Dean struggle to stand. "Dean…"

"It's okay, Sammy. I'm coming, okay? I'll fix you up."

"I…I don't need fixed." Sam said, eyes fixed on his brother. "I'm not hurt anymore."

Dean finally managed to stand and made it a few steps toward his brother before his legs gave out again. "Damn it!" he yelled angrily. "What the hell is wrong with me?"

"Dean…what's the last thing you remember?" Sam asked shakily.

Dean looked up at his brother. "Why does that matter, Sam? You're—you're covered in blood, that's what's the matter." With that, Dean crawled the final few yards over to his brother, reaching out a hand to examine how badly he was hurt.

"Dean—" Sam protested as his brother began to search for injuries, "Look, I'm not hurt—I—damn it, Dean, would you just listen to me?" he snapped, snatching his arm away from his brother.

Dean blinked. "No, Sam, I won't just listen! You're lying in a pool of sticky blood, okay? We can talk later."

"You died, Dean."

Dean gave Sam a concerned look as he continued to search his brother for the source of the blood. "Calm down, Sam. Everything's fine, you just imagined it…where the hell is all this blood coming from?"

"Nowhere. I'm fine."

"No you're not."

"What's the last thing you remember, Dean?" Sam demanded again.

"I don't know…I…" suddenly he froze and looked up at Sam. "You pulling the trigger…"

"Yeah. And what happened after that?" Sam demanded.

"I…I don't know." Dean admitted.

"Yeah, because you died! I'm not crazy, Dean!" Sam protested.

"I didn't die."

"How do you know?"

"Sam, we don't have time for this! You're hurt!"

"Dean, for the last freakin' time I'm fine! My wounds are gone."

"Oh yeah? How are they gone? Come to think of it, how did you manage to get this hurt in the first place?"

"A pack of mutant wolves attacked me."

Dean raised his eyebrows. "A pack of mutant wolves? Is that so?"

"Don't look at me like I'm crazy! That's what happened!"

"Sam—"

"Just shut-up, okay?! Shut up! I—I don't—I don't know, okay? I don't know how to explain it. I don't know what happened, but now somehow _I'm_ fine and _you're_ fine and we're all just freakin' _fine_, alright?!"

"Sammy—"

"No! Don't _Sammy _me! Don't try to calm me down! I am way past being calmed, I am seriously freaked out right now! You've been dead for over an hour, Dean! Over an hour, and I'm already losing my mind! You died and I went all psycho and defeated all the wolves and accidently killed Leandra—that's right, I _accidently_ killed a demon—and I had massive gashes in my arms and all over my body, but hey, somehow I was still alive because I'm just lucky like that. And _then, _oh, then there was this bright light and now I'm magically healed and you're suddenly alive! So yes, I'm freaking out, Dean! I don't even know how or what I did. I healed myself and brought you back from the dead—by myself—and I have no idea how I did it. That's a big deal, okay? Something's happening to me. Something I can't control…and I…I can't stop it." Sam finished and took in a deep breath, staring intently at his brother. "So, Dean…what words of wisdom could you possibly say that would help?"

Dean didn't say anything. He sat there for a moment, seemingly frozen, trying to digest everything that Sam had just told him. And then, without thinking, he reached out and pulled his brother into a hug.

A hug was the last thing Sam had expected, and it was the one thing he needed the most. He tensed for a moment in surprise and then relaxed against his brother, bringing his hands up to return the hug. "Dean—"

"It's okay, Sammy."

"But I—"

"It's okay. I'm here. It's all going to be okay."

Sam shook his head. "How can you be so sure? Everything's spiraling out of control."

Dean shrugged. "I'm the big brother…I know everything."

Sam laughed softly. "As if…"

"Hey!" Dean said, "Didn't anyone teach you to respect your elders?"

"I'm pretty sure you don't count as an elder, Dean."

"Damn right…I'm a chick magnet…way cooler than an elder."

Sam smiled faintly and then reluctantly released his brother from the hug. "Thanks."

"No problem Sammy…" Dean said, looking him over once more. "…you sure you're not hurt?"

Sam rolled his eyes and grinned. "Yes. I've told you that about a hundred times already…"

"Yeah, well…just checking. You are completely covered in blood you know." Dean said. He looked around, "So…we're still stuck here. I thought you said the evil witch was dead?"

"She is." Sam said grimly. "I'm not sure why we're still here."

"Guess we'll have to figure out a way to get back to reality then…somehow."

"Guess so."

Dean nodded, went to stand, and then winced and decided against it. "Yeah…uh…I don't see any reason to hurry." He said, lying down on the carpet.

Sam nodded and lied next to his brother so that their shoulders were touching slightly, still shaken over his death. "We've earned a little break."

Dean shook his head in agreement and then took in a deep breath, trying not to panic at everything his brother had just told him. This was a big deal…if what Sam said was true he had a lot more abilities than they had thought—

"And Dean?" Sam said suddenly, interrupting his thoughts.

"Yeah Sam?"

"Thanks for not being dead anymore."

Dean smiled slightly. "Anytime, Sammy…anytime."

**Please Review! **

**By the way, Suggestions are welcome for what the boys should do next. Let me know what you want!**


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